Of Fire and Wood
by kiaalah
Summary: What happens when the wood is set on fire by a small spark? A story of fiery dreams and flames of affection burning in the dark times of the War of the Ring. LegolasxOC
1. Chapter 1

**OF FIRE AND WOOD**

**Chapter 1 – The Approach of a Fiery Storm**

**A/N: So, before you proceed to reading this story, there may be a few important things to mention: I'm writing this story according to the movies, plus I've done some background "research" on things that were not mention there. However, I'm no die-hard Tolkien fan, so if you find something in here that wouldn't be quite right in the Tolkien universe, constructive critisism is highly appreciated! Also, I stick with the canon of TTT and ROTK and only added a few bits and pieces of my own – basically I tried to change as little as possible. That's about it, so now without further rambling, here comes the story!**

A young woman came out of a small house on the periphery of Edoras, a washing basket full of fresh laudry under her arm. It was a day like any other; men were going about their work, mending shoes, forging iron, cutting wood. Women had their own daily duties, but many of them gladly took a break to watch their children running to and fro and playing in the fresh air. To the common folk of Edoras, life had been relatively peaceful even in the light of recent events. Still, they were scared of the dark powers of Mordor and their deadly raids and thanked Eru that they yet haven't been forced to taste their unleashed hunger for destruction.

She felt it too; in the gentle breeze that was blowing through the vast plains of Rohan, in the whisperings of trees, in the sad twittering of birds at dawn. Times were changing and a storm was coming upon them. A storm so fierce she felt a shiver run down her spine everytime she thought about it.

"Hey, Dáireann! How much more do we need?" called a young boy, approaching her house with hands full of chopped firewood.

"I think that's quite enough, Cináed. It should last for about a week." she smiled at the boy.

It has been quite some time since it was only the two of them living together. A strong man is always needed in a household, and Cináed, although he only turned ten last autumn, understood this and was ready to take that role. Dáireann appreciated this, and so both of them were able to keep their household running just like anyone else.

She watched him for a while, wondering how times could alter someone's personality. He always used to be joking, running around with the other children in town and although not forgetting his duties, he managed to have fun appropriate for his age. But since the news of a rising number of Orc attacks started to spread among the folk, the shadow that clouded their minds seemed to find its way even to his heart. He gradually grew more serious and started to behave more like an adult. He stopped going out with his friends, choosing instead to stay at home and help with whatever was needed.

Dáireann was troubled by this and tried to talk to him about it, but she always got the same answer: "These are no times to be playing in the backyard, sis." And from the look of his eyes she knew the child in him was already dead.

She was brought back from her musings when Cináed spoke again.

"Whoa, that's good to hear, I almost can't feel my arms anymore!" he gave a brief smile and turned to go inside. "I'm going to stack it next to the fireplace." he called over his shoulder.

Dáireann started to hang the laudry on a line as she noticed a small group of horse riders approaching Edoras from the plains. Her house was quite off the main road, but she managed to catch a glimpse of the strange group as they entered the city – a strange group indeed. She could swear she saw a Dwarf, and someone who very much resembled and Elf. Could it be? She has only heard of them in legends of old and never quite thought she would see them with her own eyes. As they made for the palace, Dáireann regained her concentration and began to hang the laundry once more, strange thoughts swirling in her head.

Soon the folk have got the news of King Théoden being saved from the spell Saruman had placed upon him. The joy over the return of the Rohirric king to his senses mingled with the sorrow over the loss of his only son, Théodred. Many of the townspeople readily offered their help with the upcoming funeral, out of respect for their ruler.

Even Dáireann was part of this. Occassionaly she worked as a maid in the palace, a kind of girl for everything. She was quite a skilled cook; she managed to pick up a lot since she was left to take care of Cináed alone. Now, together with some of the other maids, she was summonned to prepare the farewell dinner. They were told to keep it simple; the rumour had it that there was great danger coming over Rohan and the King couldn't afford to waste expenses, even if it was for the honor of his own kin.

The funeral itself was very simple. People cried, sobbed and lamented all around Dáireann. As Prince's body was brought to his tomb, Princess Éowyn started to sing a parting ballad. It was a beautiful song which would undoubtedly bring even Dáireann to tears, but her mind was elsewhere. She has spotted him in the crowd again, the Elf.

'So it really is an Elf.' she thought. She had imagined him quite differently. He was fair and handsome no doubt, but somehow, she thought the Elvenfolk to be nobler, striking with superiority towards mankind. Yet he seemed quite humble, human even, if it wasn't for his long fair hair and the pointed ears she so often heard about. Nevertheless, he drew a considerable amount of attention to him, being probably the first of his kind that the people of Edoras have seen in their lives.

The short ceremony and the farewell dinner with only a few invited guests went by quickly and Dáireann soon had to help with clearing away the dirty plates and other tableware. It was probably a hundredth time that she had to run up and down a long hallway leading to the dungeons where food for the royal family was stored. She carried a heavy bowl full of unused potatos back to the cold underground when she suddenly heard voices. She stopped at a backdoor leading to the main hall of Théoden King where they seemed to be coming from.

"…This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash." said a deep male voice.

Dáireann's breath stopped for a split second as she heard this statement. She had felt for a long time a growing unease inside her everytime she heard the news about Saruman's army of Orcs and their raids all over Rohan. She was no fool in thinking that Edoras would remain untouched, but she still harboured that tiny spark of hope that all of this would be solved before they had time to reach her city - and her.

"Open war is upon you, whether you risk it or not." said another man's voice.

In that exact moment, someone swiftly opened the small backdoor Dáireann was standing at and knocked the bowl with potatos out of her hands. The small round vegetables rolled on the floor in every direction. Shocked, Dáireann looked up only to see a look almost as surprised as her own, and for the first time in her life she saw an Elf so close she could easily reach him with her fingers.

**Well, if you managed to come this far, I hope you enjoyed it and feel free to tell me your opinion!**


	2. Chapter 2  The Ignition

**Chapter 2 – The Ignition**

The Elf looked around at the scattered potatos and then back at Dáireann. The voices in the hall kept talking, seemingly oblivious to what has happened in the narrow hallway just behind their backs.

"Are you hurt?" asked the Elf, breaking the awkward silence.

"Oh, ehm, no, I don't think so." babbled Dáireann, mentally cursing herself for having been caught. But how did he know she was there? She barely made a sound!

"You should not be eavesdropping on your King." said the Elf with a stern expression. Much to her surprise, he then knelt down and began collecting the potatos from the ground.

"Oh no, no, please! Let me do it!" panicked Dáireann, suddenly feeling ashamed at being aided by a noble guest such as him. She quickly put the rest of the potatos in the bowl and stood up. The Elf did the same.

"How much did you hear?" he asked. She feared a more severe reaction; eavesdropping on your King, especially when he's speaking of matters of national importance, is an action that she could regret dearly. She averted her eyes.

"Not much. Nothing the people of Edoras wouldn't already anticipate, since the news of the first Orc raids reached our ears, my lord." she managed to answer, trying to sound as appropriate as possible.

She looked at him again, but he remained silent, staring at her with an expression she couldn't quite fathom. She took that as a permission to leave and without further ado, she turned around and went in the direction of the dungeons, trying to keep a steady pace.

As the voices behind her became more and more silent, she could hear him say: "My ears must have played tricks on me. The hallway is empty."

* * *

><p>It didn't come as a surprise for Dáireann when the next morning King's soldiers announced the retreat to the fortress of Hornburg in Helm's Deep. Even though she suspected this after hearing the conversation in Théoden King's halls the day before, she felt a growing unease spreading all over her body. In the night, she had a dream she hadn't had in years – a dream of fire and death. A dream the memory of which was stacked somewhere deep in Dáireann, deep enough for her to almost believe it never existed. Old, long surpressed memories began swirling in her head again. But it couldn't be…<p>

She quickly shoved those thoughts to the deepest corners of her mind and began thinking rationally again. Things needed to be packed and prepared for the journey. Together with Cináed they only took the most basic supplies of water, food and clothes and were ready to go. Cináed offered to carry everything himself, reminding Dáireann again of how much he has matured in those dark days. She refused and they devided the bags evenly. Along with some other neighbors they joined the slowly trudging crowd headed out of the city, towards the unwelcoming plains.

"It is going to be a long way, you should not have taken so much with you." said someone behind her.

Dáireann felt her heartbeat stop for a split second from the surprise. She expected to see one of the Rohirrim as she turned around, but she found herself facing a familiar person. The Elf was glancing down at her from his horse, looking somewhat different than the night before, with his battle gear and the long bow hung across his shoulder.

"We…we have tried to keep our supplies to a minimum." she replied, not knowing what else to say. What did he want from her? Did it have something to do with her eavesdropping incident?

As if he felt what she was thinking, he said: "Do not worry, noone knows about our yesterday's meeting."

"Please accept my gratitude, my lord." Was she being too polite? How was one supposed to talk to an _Elf_?

"You seem to be greatly distressed." he noted.

"I- I am fine, my lord. Although I must admit I don't have a very good feeling about what's coming upon us."

"May I ask for your name?" he suddenly asked. He caught her a little bit off-guard.

"Oh, of course, my lord. My name is Dáireann, daughter of Eoghan."

"Well then, Dáireann, daughter of Eoghan; do not fear the storm that is coming. The men of Rohan are strong. They will defend Hornburg well." he nodded at her reassuringly and then spurred his horse on and was gone in an instant. For a while, she could still see his fair hair flattering in the wind as he rode forth.

"You know an Elf, sis?" asked Cináed in disbelief.

"No, of course I don't! I coincidentally met him yesterday when I was working in the palace."

"They are said to be great warriors. I bet we'll be fine with one of them around." said Cináed, smiling at his sister.

"Yes, we will." she tried to sound reassuringly, but dark thoughts filled her mind again. As much as Cináed might have matured over the past years, he still retained that little bit of childish naiveté. Dáireann knew better than to think one Elf could change the outcome of a battle. She tried to surpress the fear that was building inside her, if not for her, then at least for her brother's sake; but as they wandered more deeply into the dry open plains, she found it harder to believe in the hope of a brighter future.

* * *

><p>Legolas watched the crowd of people at Hornburg. Most of them were running to and fro, getting weapons, storing food or searching for family members they lost in all the chaos that was everywhere around.<p>

Just as everyone thought they would already reach Helm's Deep without accident, the hord of Orcs appeared from behind the hills. As he rode forth to protect the people of Edoras, he glimpsed the girl, Dáireann, in the crowd. She didn't see him. He could see she was in great fear, just like every other of the helpless townspeople around. He mentally cursed, for it hadn't been too long since he told her not to worry about what was to come. In fact, there was a lot to worry about – but he had no time to think about that. His warrior spirit surpressed thoughts of fear and he rode towards the approaching Orcs.

The hours that passed after the attack were hard for everybody, and very much so for Legolas and Gimli. They thought that they had lost one of the greatest warriors and friends they ever had the chance to meet. After long excruciating moments, their sadness dissolved into happiness again with Aragorn entering Hornburg on his horse. But despite all the joy Legolas felt about his friend returning alive, he couldn't contain his anger when Théoden King voiced his orders – to send anyone to battle who was able to fight. He knew they were outnumbered and seeing such a helpless army forming in front of him didn't give him much hope for victory.

He was not the King, however; and so he and the others silently waited for the battle horns to be blown. Legolas suddenly noticed a commotion in the crowd of people.

"You can't possibly be serious! He's merely a child!"

Soon he spotted its origin and was surprised to find it was someone he had already met. Dáireann was clutching a boy not older than twelve to her chest, refusing to let him go and screaming at a nearby soldier who was trying to equip him for the upcoming battle. He had seen the boy before as he spoke to her while they travelled to Helm's Deep. The soldier was obviously struggling to contain his anger.

"Be reasonable, woman! We need all the men we manage to gather before they come!" he tried to snatch the boy from her arms.

"Don't you touch him." she said in a cold voice. Then she started to look around frantically. "Who's in charge here?"

"Your King is in charge." Aragorn interrupted the argument.

Dáireann looked surprised as she turned to face Aragorn. She immediately recognised Legolas next to him and, ignoring Aragorn, spoke directly to him.

"You can't let this happen! Children don't belong to the battlefield!"

Legolas could see that she was very upset. Before, she had acted very polite when she was dealing with him. Now she was obviously swept with anger and didn't bother herself with small formalities.

"It is not our decision to make." he replied calmly.

"But this is - "

"Stop it, Dáireann, that's enough!" she was interrupted mid-sentence by the boy at her side. "I want to go to battle! I can fight!"

Upon hearing this, Legolas could see her features loosen up. She knelt down to face the boy.

"Cináed, you don't know what you're saying. This is no game."

"I know, sis. Just let me go. I can take care of myself." said the boy resolutely.

Legolas could see her eyes fill up with tears. She gave up on arguing and simply held the boy close to her.

"I will be waiting here, Cináed. Do come back to me." she whispered to his ear so quietly that only Legolas could hear it.

With one quick glance, the boy joined the soldier and disappeard in the crowd full of armed men, young and old alike. Dáireann stood up and slowly looked back at Legolas. He wanted to say something soothing, but couldn't bring himself to do so. He knew the boy would never come back. And she knew it too.

"May Eru be with you, my lord." she said, still looking Legolas in the eyes. Then she averted her gaze, politely bowed her head in Aragorn's direction and slowly walked away.

* * *

><p>Legolas looked up at the hill as they were once again approaching the city of Edoras. The battle has been won, but at a great price. Many of the untrained townspeople fell victim to the undying rage of the Orcs. It was therefore that he felt great pleasure upon Saruman's death, for he deserved nothing better. Still, dark solemn thoughts clouded his mind.<p>

He saw him die, the boy. He had no chance. His boyish body hardly managed to lift the sword he was given and so together with his other companions and friends, he was one of the first to taste the blade of a blood-thirsty Orc. Dáireann was right; children did not belong to the battlefield.

He tried to surpress the sad thoughts once they entered Edoras. The city was full of a mixture of feelings – wives, mothers and daughters lamented over the deaths of their loved ones, but at the same time a feeling of relief could be seen on some people's faces. But Legolas knew better; the danger had not yet been completely destroyed.

Later that afternoon he was walking up and down the long corridors of Théoden King's halls, lost in his own thoughts. There was a big feast scheduled for tomorrow's evening: a commemoration of those who fell and a celebration of those who survived. Legolas didn't feel the least bit like celebrating, but out of respect for the King he agreed to join the party.

As he was about to turn a corner, he heard muffled voices on the other side.

"Burning like a torch, I tell you. I couldn't believe my eyes!" said an older woman's voice.

"Don't be silly, woman. That is unheard of!" objected a man.

"I was sitting right next to her in the caves! She fell unconscious, and believe it or not, suddenly there were flames dancing around her whole body! Anyways, must be something serious, the Princess ordered to bring her to the palace." she whispered.

The man only laughed at this. "Stop spreading gossip and better go about your work, or else you'll get lost in all those crazy tales!"

Legolas didn't listen any further. That was indeed a strange conversation, he thought. A woman burning? Still, he had other business to do. During his walk he decided to visit Dáireann. He wasn't quite sure if she wanted to hear about her brother, or whether she already knew, but he had to get rid of that burden that was troubling him and make sure she got the terrible news.

Just as he was about to leave the palace, Gandalf stopped him.

"Legolas, come with me. There is some urgent matter we need to discuss."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading this far and I hope you liked it. Be sure to leave a review!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3  Dreams of Fire

**Chapter 3 –**** Dreams of**** Fire**

**A/N: Thanks for reading/reviewing/favouriting this story. I found this chapter rather hard to write, so be sure to leave a review and let me know what you thought about it!**

Legolas followed Gandalf to something that appeared to be a dining room. The rest of his companions were already waiting, together with Princess Éowyn.

"What is this urgent matter?" he asked.

"There has been a strange incident in the caves while you were fighting the Orcs." answered Éowyn. "I saw it myself. One of the women burst into flames, just like that."

"Burst into flames?" he asked, surprised. So that is what I have overheard, he thought.

"Yes. It was a most strange occurance. I have never witnessed anything of that sort in my entire life." said Éowyn. "We were scared that something might be set on fire, but it was not long before the flames died out, just as quick as they appeared. I have ordered for her to be brought into one of my chambers. She is still unconscious." she summed up the strange event.

"This is very strange indeed, especially in the light of recent events. She might be potentially dangerous, but we can't say for sure unless we meet her in person." added Gandalf.

"Dangerous? Do you mean this could be Sauron's doing?" asked Aragorn.

"I'm afraid that could be the case." sighed Gandalf.

"I already sent a chambermaid to try and wake her up." said Éowyn.

Legolas listened in silence. He, just like the rest of his friends, has never in his long life heard of people bursting into flames by themselves. He didn't have a very good feeling about it.

* * *

><p>Dáireann suddenly awakened into the real world. She found herself lying in a strange bed, sweating, her heart beating at an unbearable pace. A pair of unfamiliar eyes was looking at her with concern.<p>

"Are you feeling alright, my lady?" the woman asked. She was some sort of a chambermaid, Dáireann guessed.

She slowly sat up on the bed, feeling the pounding of her heart in every vein of her body. She felt feverishly hot.

Her dreams were disturbing. It was the same dreams she remembered from very long ago, dreams that recently began coming back; dreams that made her scared of her own self.

"It is very urgent, my lady. Can you stand up?" the chambermaid asked, bringing Dáireann's thoughts back to the strange room.

"I..I think so." she slowly let her feet slide off the silken bedsheets and onto the cold stone floor. She was feeling weak, but after sitting for a few minutes regained her strength again.

"What is this place?" she asked.

"It is one of Princess Éowyn's chambers. Now if you could follow me, my lady." replied the maid, as if it was on daily order to wake up in a room that belongs to your Princess. Dáireann was surprised to hear this, not remembering how she could have possibly got there. Without a word, she followed the maid along the long corridors that she slowly started to recognise. Her mind was still filled with disturbing thoughts that originated from her dreams, but despite them she felt flattered at being addressed "my lady". It was the first time in her life someone has called her that.

After a few more turns, they entered the royal family's dining hall. Dáireann recognised it from her occasional working in the palace. She was surprised to recognise some of the faces as well – together with the Elf there was also the rest of the strange group that accompanied him. She spotted Princess Éowyn, too.

"Dáireann?" she heard the Elf say. He seemed to be just as surprised to see her as she was. And did he actually remember her name?

Dáireann quickly remembered her manners and slightly bowed her head.

"My lords, my lady." she addressed the group that was observing her.

An old man in a long white cloak motioned her to sit down at the big dining table. She felt very uncomfortable; all eyes were upon her.

"I believe you are Dáireann." he said. She simply nodded. "Do you remember anything that happened at the fortress of Hornburg?"

"No." she shook her head. "I only remember sitting on a cold rock in the caves and -"

Suddenly a cold shiver went down her spine and her breath got cought deep in her throat. _Cináed_. How could she have forgotten about him? She swiftly stood up, almost knocking her chair over.

"Where's my brother? Have any of you seen him?" she looked into every single face at the table and finally stopped at the Elf's. "What happened to him, my lord?" she addressed him, despair showing on her face.

He simply averted his gaze. Dáireann didn't need any more explaining. A part of her felt it even as she saw him disappear in the crowd of people before the battle.

"Oh…" she slowly sat back down.

"I am sorry." she heard the Elf say.

Dáireann didn't know what to do. It has been such a long time since she last lost someone dear…How was she to react? Where were all her feelings? She felt as if they all disappeared, they were gone. She was left empty. Her brain was unable to fully comprehend the situation, as if it had been covered by a thin silken veil. Dáireann wanted to cry and shout, tear something apart and scream at someone who was unfortunate enough to be close by.

But nothing happened. The emptiness invaded even the deepest corners of her mind and body. She just sat there numbly.

The rest of the people expected some kind of a reaction, but as nothing came, Gandalf broke the uncomfortable silence.

"I understand your grief must be very deep. But it is crucial that you cooperate with us right now." he looked at her sympathetically. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Dáireann gathered her breath again and after a deep sigh answered his question.

"I was in the caves with the rest of the women when…" she hesitated. How much did she really want to tell them? "I suddenly felt dizzy. The next thing I know, I woke up here." she said, her gaze lingering on the stone floor.

"Was there nothing in between?"

"I was simply dreaming." she looked at Gandalf, wondering whether she already said too much.

"Yes! That could be our clue. Tell me more about that dream, child."

"No, I… I can't. I'm sorry." she shook her head resolutely.

"Please, try to tell us. It is very important." Legolas tried to encourage her.

"No!" she stood up again, this time actually knocking her chair over. "There are wounds that I've been working on healing for many years. Do not make them bleed again." she gazed intently at Gandalf. "Now, if you excuse me…" she slightly bowed her head and quickly left the room.

* * *

><p>Dáireann left the room as quickly as she could. As she was leaving, she could feel their gazes burning into her back.<p>

She ran around frantically in the long hallways, trying to find the room where she had been sleeping and where, she presumed, she would find her regular clothes, for she had only been dressed in a long night-gown that didn't belong to her.

She tried to push all the swirling thoughts out of her head. There were way too many – the strange interrogation she has just escaped from, her brother, her dreams…

Those dreams used to haunt her in the past. She saw it all again, just like she remembered – burning fires, boiling bowels of the earth, fiery flames. And then there was the eye. It embodied everything Dáireann had recently been scared of. She knew who it was and was petrified to even think about what he was doing in her dreams. The eye was looking at her intently, whispering muffled words…but her body knew what it was saying.

Why was it all coming back to her now, after so many years?

Dáireann, lost in her thoughts and in the dark hallways at the same time, didn't notice a figure behind her.

"Dáireann."

She snapped back to reality with a gasp and turned around to see who spoke to her.

"Lady Éowyn." she said, surprised. "Please forgive me for wandering here like this. I couldn't find the room where you were kind enough to let me sleep, my lady." she slightly bowed her head.

"There is no need to apologize. Come with me." she smiled and started to lead her upstairs.

They walked in silence for a while until Éowyn spoke again.

"I would like you to stay here for a while longer, Dáireann, at least until tomorrow's celebration. It will do you good."

Dáireann was a little taken aback by this gesture.

"I cannot accept such a generous offer, my lady. Besides, I should return to my own house."

An empty house, she thought; and guessed that Éowyn was thinking the same.

"I insist." she said resolutely.

"In that case, I cannot refuse any longer." Dáireann tried to bring at least a small smile on her face, but she didn't feel it had the desired effect.

After a few more moments they reached the chamber in which Dáireann first awoke that day. Éowyn simply smiled at her and left her there alone with a silent goodbye.

A few minutes after the sound of Éowyn's steps slowly dissolved into an almost unbearable silence, the weight of what has happened started to fall on Dáireann's shoulders.

_Cináed is dead_, she thought. _My brother is dead_.

She could feel the silken veil that separated her mind from comprehension slowly sliding off and the horrible pain of losing the last dear person in her life creeping into her heart. And the realization hit her even harder than she thought it would. Her breath quickened as warm tears started rolling out of her eyes and loud sobs could no longer be surpressed.

She found she could barely stand and made for the bed. And as she lay there crying, she knew a part of her died with her brother.

* * *

><p>Legolas, together with his companions, was quite shocked at Dáireann's reaction. Her refusal to give them any information has only added to Gandalf's suspicion. He knew fire was a dangerous element to play with, but he couldn't make out anything of the situation. Her actions were undoubtedly influenced by the terrible news of her brother's death; and he couldn't blame her. And yet that tiny spark of suspicion lingered in Gandalf's mind.<p>

They agreed to leave her alone for the time being, but it was clear to everyone that the matter would have to be cleared eventually. Meanwhile, Legolas made up his mind to visit Dáireann in her chamber. It burdened him that he had seen the last moments of that poor boy. He would have been another one of the soldiers dying in the frenzy of battle all around him, but somehow it affected him to see such a young life fade away, without ever having a chance to survive face to face to a blood-thirsty Orc born to slaughter.

After asking Éowyn for directions, he managed to find the right room. With a silent sigh he lifted his hand to knock on the wooden door.

* * *

><p>Hours have passed since Éowyn left Dáireann alone in the room. She already stopped crying. Now she was just lying on her bed, staring out of the window with a blank expression. After all the emotional distress of that afternoon, her mind was once again empty. When she heard a knock on the door, she didn't bother turning around, thinking it was one of the chambermaids, and only answered with a simple "come in".<p>

"I hope I do not disturb you, Dáireann." said a familiar voice behind her.

She already knew who it was before she turned around. She tried to gather her composure and sat up on the bed.

"No, not at all, my lord."

"May I sit down?"

She nodded.

"I believe I have not properly introduced myself to you, for which I apologize. I must have forgotten my manners." his eyes lingered on her for a while. "My name is Legolas Greenleaf."

"It's a pleasure to, ehm, properly meet you, my lord." she said.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"A little bit better, thank you." she knew he could see her eyes were swollen from crying.

"I do not know if this is the proper moment, but I feel like I have to tell you." he averted his eyes. "I saw him, your brother. When he died."

Dáireann didn't know how to react to that. Her brain was too emotionally strained to acknowledge such information in the proper way. She simply kept looking at the stone floor.

"Did he hurt?"

"No." was his simple answer. "He fought until the very end and died a brave man."

A few moments of silence followed before Dáireann spoke again.

"You know, that sounds very much like him." A small smile appeared on her face. "Always trying to take everything into his own hands. That was Cináed. He wouldn't even let me chop the firewood!"

Dáireann was surprised to find tears flowing down her cheeks once again. In spite of that she was smiling and suddenly remembered many things she and Cináed have done together and how their life used to be.

"I don't know what I'm going to do without him." she whispered, tears still falling on her hands.

"Do you have noone to go to?" he asked.

She shook her head. "He was my only family."

Legolas remained silent for a while. Dáireann suddenly felt ashamend at putting him into such a situation; it wasn't easy to comfort a stranger and she certainly didn't make it any easier for him. Truth be told, she would rather be left alone, but she appreciated the gesture.

"Please, don't be troubled by my silly ramblings. I will be fine." she quickly added. She managed to bring a smile to her face as she wiped the tears away.

He simply nodded.

"Well then, I presume you would rather prefer to be left alone."

Just as she wanted to protest, he smiled and stood up.

"Do not worry. I hope I will see you at tomorrow's celebration. It will do you good." he looked at her one last time and then turned around to leave her alone once again.

* * *

><p>At night, Dáireann was dreaming again. It was the same dream as the night before; all she could see were blazing flames everywhere around her. She was scared, because she knew what would follow. The flames were staring at her with a piercing gaze that could see the deepest parts of her heart and soul. The eye began speaking, just like it always did; only this time, the phrases it voiced weren't muffled anymore. Still, they were incoherent, interrupted by the cracking of the fire in the eye's midst.<p>

_Must get the ring… Must get rid of the enemies…_

_Burn… Kill…_

* * *

><p><strong>Well, that was the 3rd chapter! I found it quite challenging, especially describing the feelings of a person who lost someone so dear. Let me know what you thought about it!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4 Playing with Fire

**Chapter 4 – Playing with Fire**

**A/N: Thank you for reading this far :) This is the longest chapter so far and that's why I decided to split it into two. Towards the end I tried to loosen the atmosphere a little bit; it was getting a tiny bit depressing, but I hope I fixed it well and in the next chapter, we will finally see some celebrating and fun! Well, enjoy the story and let me know if you liked it! Or even if you didn't, criticism helps me get better ;)**

Dáireann woke up with a gasp, as if she hadn't been breathing all night. She found her night-gown soaked in sweat and her heart racing. Her whole body was shaking as she slowly sat up on the bed. She almost expected to find the room around her burning with fire.

She clearly remembered her dream. The picture of the eye's piercing gaze still lingered in her mind, as if it was omnipresent even when she wasn't dreaming. She was scared like she has never been scared before; scared of her own self. Was the eye actually commanding her? Once again, memories that she would be glad to leave forgotten swirled through her head.

Suddenly she felt weak and gasped for air. She needed to get out of the room, all of a sudden feeling dizzy with the realization of what might be going on in her head. She ran out and didn't stop until she bumped into something, which almost knocked her off her feet. She expected to hit the floor hard, but got caught mid-air by a pair of strong hands.

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><p>Legolas was walking around the palace early in the morning. Thoughts of the inevitable didn't allow him to sleep well. Maybe it was the presence of Saruman's <em>palantír<em>, or maybe the knowledge that sooner or later an open war would have to be waged; he didn't know. Whatever it was, it haunted his dreams and so instead of the troubled sleep, he chose to go for a walk in the fresh morning air.

It caught him by surprise when someone ran into him. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he barely heard a person running in his direction. Still, his Elven reflexes didn't fail and he managed to catch the person, saving them from a hard fall on the cold stone floor. He was surprised to see Dáireann in his arms.

"Dáireann?" he lifted his eyebrows. "Is everything alright?"

She seemed to be just as surprised as he was.

"Please, forgive me, my lord. I was careless." she slightly bowed her head.

Legolas had to chuckle to himself at the formalities she was using when she talked to him. It was a long time since he was last called "my lord". His companions in the Fellowship, especially Gimli, never bothered to address him in a manner suitable for a person of royal descent. But he never complained. In fact, he very much preferred it that way. It made him feel welcome in the group and it felt good that for a change he had people around him who didn't care about his family and accepted him the way he was.

"What are you doing up so early?" he asked.

"I felt a little bit dizzy and decided to go out for some fresh air." she replied.

"What a coincidence, I am on my way to get some fresh air myself. Would you care to keep me company?"

She simply nodded and so they made their way towards the eastern terrace of King Théoden's palace, from where there was a magnificent view of the mountains and plains surrounding Edoras. They arrived in silence and as they stepped out into the open, Legolas closed his eyes for a while and enjoyed the gentle breeze that was caressing his cheeks.

He wondered about the young woman that was silently standing next to him. There wasn't much he knew about her, but for some reason they kept meeting in the strangest situations. She was just a simple young Rohirric woman, and yet he found himself strangely comfortable in her company. It was partly the curiosity that made him want to find out more about her. He has never interacted much with humans, not to mention with simple townsfolk. But especially since the incident with her brother, he felt a weird urge to make her feel better, to protect her even. For a while he almost forgot she was still standing there and upon realizing this, he snapped back from his thoughts.

Just as he was about to break the silence between them, Dáireann spoke.

"I need to talk to you about something, my lord."

Now he didn't bother to surpress the chuckle.

"I think it is about time you started calling me by my name." he said playfully, but as soon as he saw her expression, the smile faded from his lips. It was full of distress and nervousness, and something he identified as fear.

"What is troubling you?"

"I… I might have been wrong about not telling you what exactly happened in the caves yesterday."

"What made you change your mind?" he said calmly, remembering her outburst in the dining hall.

"I have never told anyone before, not to mention a group of strangers." she paused for a while. "Also, I thought that if I told you… you would have, I don't know, have me tied up, or locked in the dungeons."

He couldn't keep a small laugh from escaping his lips. "Why in the world would we do that?"

"Because you'd think I'm dangerous." she looked him straight in the eyes. Legolas frowned upon this strange statement.

"Then why are you telling me now?"

Dáireann averted her gaze and replied with a trembling voice: "Because now I think I_ am_ dangerous. And that scares me." she barely whispered.

Dangerous? What is she talking about? Legolas frowned and said nothing, waiting for her to continue. After a while, she began speaking again, without meeting his concerned gaze.

"Ever since I was a small child, I knew I was…a little bit different. I don't remember how I found out; maybe I always knew. It was the fire." she looked at him. "I don't know how I learned it, but I remember I could do small things like lighting candles or putting my hand into the fireplace without getting burnt. Being the young child I was back then, I was excited about it, but I've never told anyone. We were being fed horrible stories of the Dark Lord of Mordor and his fiery eye; and that's why I thought… I thought they might accuse me of some kind of connection to him. I wasn't really bothered, but those stories scared me just like all the other kids, and I decided it would be best to hush about it." she paused for a while, nervously clutching her night-gown.

Legolas was slowly beginning to put the puzzle-pieces of what might have happened at Hornburg together.

With a deep sigh, she continued: "It wasn't until much much later that I started having those dreams. At first I only dreamt of fire; I thought it only natural and didn't really care much, but the dreams became more and more frequent until one day… I saw it looking at me. The eye."

She lifted her gaze to look at Legolas. He noticed that her eyes turned a little red and her voice was trembling. He only kept looking at her with a concerned expression. Although Gandalf had already voiced his concerns, it still surprised him to actually hear from Dáireann herself that this whole thing could have something to do with Sauron, after all. But what could the Dark Lord possibly want from someone like her?

"It was speaking to me. I never really understood what it was saying, but that… that dream really scared me and… made me realize that I shouldn't have played with fire. After that one night, I kept my distance from it and the dreams never came back. That is, until a few weeks before you first came to Rohan."

I few tears rolled down her cheeks. She was obviously in great distress and Legolas wondered what he should do, but he decided to remain silent and to let her finish her story.

"It was the same dream over and over again. Even in the caves at Hornburg; I remember falling unconscious and then the eye looking at me once again, speaking unintelligible words to me. And as I found out I was actually _burning_…" she paused again, taking a deep breath. "It really scared me. That's why I refused to tell you yesterday. I was wondering whether he actually _made_ me burn…And then…"

She was getting more and more upset. Tears were still rolling from her eyes and her voice trembled. Legolas, upon seeing this, caught her elbow and gently pushed her towards a wooden bench that was placed on the terrace. She didn't resist and sat down next to him. Covering her face with her hands, Dáireann continued.

"Tonight, I dreamt again. But this time, I understood what the eye was telling me all along." she looked at him, despair showing on her face. "It told me to burn and…and _kill_."

This time, surprise clearly showed on Legolas' face. He has lived long enough to know what Sauron was capable of, but he has never heard of him actually possessing people, if that was what was happening to Dáireann. He didn't know what to do to make her feel better; this was no ordinary situation.

He watched as she bent down over her knees, still holding her head in her hands.

"Oh my… I don't know what to do…"

After hesitating awhile, he placed his hand on her back.

"Do not be scared, Dáireann. I think it would be best if you took a rest right now. I will try and figure something out." he tried to sound reassuringly.

Legolas was at his wits'end as to what the solution to such a situation could be. He decided to talk to Gandalf about it; he was always there to provide valuable advice. It was actually none of his business, but after she confided in him, he felt like he had to help her in any way he could. Was it possible that a girl like her might be really posing danger to them?

Dáireann straightened her back and looked at him once more. "Thank you… Legolas."

He simply nodded and stood up to search for Gandalf, leaving her by herself on the wide terrace.

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><p>It wasn't too hard to find him. He was sitting in the palace's library, which, although not remarkably big, held some literary treasures that Gandalf came to enjoy during their stay in Edoras. It wasn't yet quite decided what their next step should be, and so he spent the days searching through monumental volumes covered in dust. Legolas never knew whether he was actually looking for something or simply enjoyed skimming through the flavescent pages in the dimly lit room.<p>

As he approached him, Gandalf put aside a book almost as big as a warrior's shield.

"Gandalf." he said silently. "I need to talk to you about Dáireann."

After he made sure they were alone in the dusty room, he sat down next to him and told him everything he heard from Dáireann that morning. He noticed Gandalf's frown growing bigger and bigger as he continued with the strange story. When he finished, the room once again fell into silence, just as it was before he came in.

Gandalf seemed to be thinking. After a while he spoke:

"Hm… It certainly is unusual, but there are cases of humans possessing such rare powers. What troubles me most is that she has been found by the Dark Lord." he frowned.

"Found? How do you mean it?" Legolas asked in surprise.

"I suppose she is not the only one who's powers Sauron wants to use for himself and strenghten his army. And fire is something he is very close to; I'm not surprised it wasn't very difficult for him to invade Dáireann's dreams." he paused for a while.

"The real question is, however, how much of a danger she is posing to us right now. Does he know we are near her? Can he take possession of her whenever he wants to? And unfortunately, I cannot answer either one of those questions." he looked at Legolas.

"Then what are we going to do? She seemed very stressed as she talked to me. We have to help her." he pleaded.

"I'm afraid there's nothing we can do, Legolas. Dreams are a powerful thing and are not easy to be influenced. I think the best we can do right now is to keep an eye on her, so that nothing worse than a few nightmares can happen."

Legolas sighed and looked away. He had hoped Gandalf would have a more concrete solution to Dáireann's situation. But he knew that if there was one, he would have told him.

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><p>Dáireann left the eastern terrace soon after Legolas. Still distracted by her dream and immersed in the story she shared with him, she completely forgot that she was wearing nothing but a night-gown which was still soaked in sweat. She suddenly felt very cold in the fresh morning air and went back to her chamber to put something warmer on.<p>

She wondered what could happen after she told Legolas about her dreams. She had no doubt he would share it with his companions; and she didn't mind. She only hoped they could find a solution and help her get rid of those nightmares that seemed to be haunting her more and more often. Was it because of the approaching war? She felt it; she knew it, just like everybody else. After Mordor started spreading terror all over Rohan and undoubtedly other parts of Middle-Earth, everybody felt that the evil had to be fought, sooner or later. And the arrival of a group as unusual as Legolas' only added to the suspicion of the Rohirric people.

She was passing the great dining hall and noticed a crowd of people running around, carrying tableware, huge wooden kegs, chairs and other things around. The celebration! She almost completely forgot about it. She wondered whether she should join the festivities; she didn't feel the least bit like it, but she desperately needed a distraction from everything that was suddenly happening all around her. Also, she thought, it would keep her from going to sleep all night, and under current circumstances she appreciated keeping away from her bed for as long as possible.

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><p>Later that afternoon she decided to pay a visit to her house, for the first time since they returned from Helm's Deep. She didn't really feel like going back, but she had to pick up a dress for the upcoming celebration. She wasn't quite sure what kind of feelings seeing those four empty walls could evoke in her. Would she be sad, scared, lonely? Would she feel anything at all? Whatever those feelings might be, she'd better get used to them soon, she thought. She couldn't stay in Princess Éowyn's chambers forever, after all.<p>

"Dáireann, there you are!" called a voice from behind her back.

Dáireann stopped in her tracks and turned around to see Éowyn approaching her from behind a corner.

"Lady Éowyn." she bowed her head.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Dáireann wasn't sure how to react. Did she already know what she told Legolas that morning? As if Éowyn understood her confused expression, she added:

"Legolas has talked to us about your troubles."

"Oh, I see… I'm actually feeling much better already. I'm on my way home, to get some dress for tonight's celebration." she smiled at her Princess.

"Would you mind if I accompanied you?" asked Éowyn.

"No, not at all."

And so they made their way down the hill from the palace and soon walked into the streets of Edoras, which were full of people preparing for the celebration. On their way Dáireann saw some men stacking up a huge pile of wood on a small grassy hill just outside of the city. Éowyn noticed it too and broke the silence that was between them ever since they left the palace.

"A bonfire will be lit tonight in honor of those who fell protecting us at Helm's Deep."

"That's nice." replied Dáireann absent-mindedly. In all the chaos of the past days she didn't even think about the fact that her brother would never have a proper burial. The losses at Helm's Deep were too great and so the many bodies couldn't be brought back to their families. From what she had heard, they had all been burnt after the people returned back to Edoras. Although the thought of fire made her feel a little bit uneasy, Dáireann thought it quite nice to depart the souls of the deceased by lighting a bonfire.

"You know, Dáireann," continued Éowyn, "we have discussed it and decided it would be best if you stayed in the palace a little longer."

"But, my lady, I could be posing danger for you and everybody else there. Surely it would be wiser if I stayed by myself." said Dáireann.

In fact, she didn't want to stay alone at all. There was nothing she wished for more at the moment than to sleep in a room knowing someone else is close by. But she also knew that her dream might recurr on its own free will and she feared it might do much more than just turn into a horrible nightmare.

"From what I have heard, Gandalf is a very powerful wizard. Also, Legolas seems to be quite troubled by your situation. If you are near them, they can help you if something should happen." Éowyn smiled at her reassuringly.

"Alright. I will stay." she said.

She wondered whether she was being selfish. She was so desperate about not being alone that she could potentially endanger the Princess, Legolas, and his companions. Was it wrong to keep shoving those thoughts out of her head and, despite the risk, feeling nearly happy at the thought of spending the upcoming days in a palace full of people, rather than in an empty house by herself?

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><p>Dáireann imagined visiting her house after all that's happened more traumatic than it had actually been. She has already overcome the tidal wave of sadness and sorrow that came over her as she got the news of her brother's death and was surprised to find it quite easy to step into her house. Some things were different, however; without Cináed's presence the house seemed to her like an empty shell; four walls with no meaning to her whatsoever.<p>

Trying not to think about it too much and engaging in a friendly chatter with the Princess, whom Dáireann discovered to be a very pleasant and humble person dispite her royal roots, she chose the most proper dress for the occasion and after packing up a few things, returned back to the palace. In fact, she only had one dress that was suitable enough to wear to a celebration like that. She has never used it much and was quite glad to put it on once again, for a while forgetting all of her troubles and finally feeling almost happy as she turned around and around in front of the mirror, admiring her changed self.

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><p>Legolas was strolling in the chilly evening air around the grassy hill where the pile of wood for the bonfire was being prepared and watched the townspeople slowly gathering around it. He was searching for Dáireann, in fact. He hasn't seen her since their morning conversation and was wondering whether everything was alright. However, he decided to abandon all of his troubled thoughts for the evening and simply enjoy the party. He even promised Gimli to later join him in a drinking game. He has heard a lot of stories involving Dwarves and liquor and was quite excited to see how much of them was actually true.<p>

After a few more minutes almost the whole of Edoras was gathered around the hill. The huge bonfire was lit and as the smoke rose towards the sky, the tune of a ballad cut through the air. It was quite moving, he had to admit. And he obviously wasn't the only one to think so – he noticed some of the townspoeple sobbing and wiping their eyes.

Halfway through the final goodbye to the brave men of Edoras, Legolas finally found her. Dáireann was standing next to Princess Éowyn. She looked very different that night – she was wearing a very simple, yet flattering white dress that embraced her figure and grazed the grass behind her heels as she stood there by the bonfire. Her hair was done very simply too, most of her dark locks loosly hanging from her shoulders. Although the whole attire could be considered rather modest, Legolas was astonished at how different it made her look; beautiful even. When she was her regular, partly plain self, he has never noticed that strange delicate air she seemed to be emanating now.

Lost in his thoughts, Legolas didn't notice he was actually bluntly staring at her across the burning flames. He snapped back to reality as he noticed that she saw him too. He expected all kinds of reactions, only not the one he actually got – a smile. The first one he has seen on her face since the moment they met for the first time.

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><p><strong>Well, that's it. Hope you liked it and make sure to leave a review!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5 A Moon Ablaze in the Night

**Chapter 5 – A Moon Ablaze in the Night**

**A/N: Hey guys, thank you for reading and also for the lovely reviews. This chapter is going to be less dramatic, to loosen up the atmosphere of this whole fic a little bit. I found the inspiration in one of the scenes in the Extended Edition, with Legolas and Gimli participating in a drinking game. I advise you to watch it before you read this (it's on Youtube), it's really quite amusing. Well then, let me know how you liked it!**

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><p>Although Dáireann was surprised to find Legolas staring at her from the other side of the dancing flames, she didn't show it on her face and simply smiled. It felt great to smile again; Dáireann felt as if she hadn't done it in ages, although it have merely been a few days. She imagined the rising smoke take the weight of the world off her shoulders and fly with it towards the sky, away from her; allowing her to finally relax and enjoy the celebration. Besides, Legolas surely deserved that smile; since the day they met he was there to help her with her troubles and the only thing she did was keep crying and undoubtedly making him uncomfortable.<p>

As the parting ballad's melody slowly faded away and the people started to make their way to the palace to join the jolly part of the evening, Dáireann muttered an excuse to Éowyn and walked towards Legolas. He watched her as she was approaching him.

"Good evening, Dáireann." he greeted her when she was close enough to hear him.

"Good evening." she smiled once more. "How did you enjoy the parting ceremony?"

"I must admit it was very moving. But I am quite looking forward to the second part of the evening." he smirked. "Shall we join the others in the palace?"

"Yes, let's go." she nodded and so they joined the crowd of people headed up the hill towards the royal residence.

"This is my first time partaking in a Rohirric celebration." he noted. "Is there anything I should be prepared for?" he asked playfully.

"Only the best music, the most beautiful women in all of Middle-Earth and liquor so strong that when you've drunk enough of it, both of the previous two will be true no matter what. At least that's what we pride ourselves on officially." she laughed at the silly saying that has become wide-spread among the folk of Rohan and was generously used everytime a stranger visited one of its many towns and villages.

Legolas chuckled at the not-so-modest statement.

"Then I surely have a lot to look forward to! Gimli, the Dwarf, challenged me to a drinking game, so I will probably be able to tell you later whether it really all came true." he laughed merrily.

It was unusual for Dáireann to see Legolas so easy-going and joking about liquor and drinking. It was probably because they haven't met in situations that would evoke such a good mood before, but still to her it seemed strangely unfitting for an Elf to behave like that. She had always imagined them to be very noble, wise and somehow earnest; her general idea of an Elf definitely didn't include them participating in drinking games with Dwarves.

In spite of however strange it might have seemed to her, she actually liked this new side of him that she was beginning to discover. That evening, he reminded her of a common human more than anything; and somehow, she felt much closer to him than before. It felt very natural to laugh and joke with him all the way to the palace; now she even felt silly about calling him "my lord" so often before, when he was just a noble guest in her King's halls to her – a perception of Legolas that was slowly disappearing from her mind.

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><p>Dáireann wasn't the only one who enjoyed their little chit-chat on the way to the palace. Legolas felt as if he was speaking to a whole another person, so merry and joking all the way there; and so he allowed himself to loosen up a little bit himself. If his father had seen him that night he would most probably disapprove of his behaviour and would undoubtedly give him a lecture on how one should present himself as the only delegate of his country in Edoras, and not to mention as a prince.<p>

But at that moment, Legolas didn't care much for what his father would have thought. Being so far away from his homeland made him feel free, unbound by the rules that determined a great part of a royal heir's life and by the expectations he had to live up to. It wasn't that he wouldn't have the understanding of the duty he had towards his land and people; but this whole journey was a rare opportunity for him to, at least for a few short moments, allow himself to be carefree, even in the light of the upcoming clash with the dark powers of Mordor.

As they entered the great dining hall, it was already full of men and women dancing to jolly music, sitting around long wooden tables drinking from huge jugs full of liquor and chatting with their friends and neighbours. Legolas smiled as they walked in, already feeling the merriment seep into his veins. At one of the tables he noticed Éomer and Gimli who was frantically waving at him from across the spacious hall. Legolas chuckled to himself and wondered whether Gimli had already started the game without him.

"I can see my challenger there across the room. Would you like to join him with me? I would appreciate a little bit of cheering." he winked at her.

"Sure, I will do my best." she laughed and followed him towards his friend.

"There you are, you pointy-eared princelet!" called out Gimli as soon as they reached his table. "Let's see how a fine Elven lad like you can hold his liquor!" he laughed.

Legolas only shook his head with a wide smile on his face. Gimli has never failed to add that tiny hidden implication of how little he cared about his race and status to almost every one of his sentences. Well, maybe it wasn't all that hidden, he thought. He enjoyed it, however, and appreciated the unusual friendship that grew stronger every day.

Éomer filled the first two jugs to the brim and handed them to the opponents.

"The first one to stop drinking loses the game." he added.

Legolas shot one quick smile at Dáireann and took a deep gulp of the Rohirric liquor.

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><p>Dáireann watched as Legolas and his Dwarf-friend emptied one jug after another. The Dwarf was growing merrier and merrier by the minute and she could swear she could see blush on his face, despite the thick ginger beard that covered most of it. Also, she noted, he began telling some quite inappropriate stories about swimming with something she distinctly heard as 'little hairy women'. She shrugged the unpleasant image off and instead turned her attention to Legolas, who seemed to be strangely sober compared to the amount of empty jugs lying in front of him on the table. She was wondering whether it had anything to do with him being an Elf, when she was pulled back from her thoughts by a deep male voice.<p>

"Dáireann." said Gandalf. "I hope you are enjoying tonight's party." he smiled at her.

She was surprised to find him behind her. She remembered him from a few days ago, when he asked her about her dreams. Back then she felt a little intimidated by him, but as she saw him smile, he seemed to her like a kind old man, although he still emanated an air of natural respect.

"Oh yes, I am, thank you for asking." she replied.

He laughed wholeheartedly when he saw Gimli almost fall off his chair. "Typical Dwarf!" he muttered to himself and then turned his attention back to Dáireann.

"Would you mind if I had a word with you?" he looked around. "Somewhere less noisy?"

Dáireann simply nodded and followed him outside to a wide terrace facing the hills. It was lit by torches and here and there they passed a few people who went out to get some fresh air, but it was mostly empty. She leaned on the wooden railing and watched the bright full moon, whose colour was turning orange as it rose in the night sky. It reminded her of fire and she felt a slight feeling of unease spreading in her belly.

Gandalf broke the silence. "There is no need to be so tense. I am not here to interrogate you."

She tore her gaze from the hypnotizing moon and looked at him.

"What is it then that you wanted to talk to me about?" she asked.

"I have been thinking about your situation a lot in the past days. However, there are many questions that I am still unable to answer. The Dark Lord of Mordor is capable of many things and I am unsure what his intentions might be with a girl like you." he sighed.

"I don't know myself. Surely one person isn't going to be of any help if an open war should come upon us." she remarked.

He seemed to be thinking.

"What I wanted to tell you, Dáireann, is that dreams are a powerful thing. When we dream we enter a strange land where all our hopes and fears are stored and are waiting for us to slowly discover them as we sleep. And there are people that have the power to take advantage of those fears and use it against you. As you have probably guessed, Sauron is one of them." he paused for a while.

Dáireann didn't understand where this conversation was going. He was only telling her what she already knew; and along with that, he was ruining her good mood that she came to enjoy so much that evening.

"However, those dreams are still yours, Dáireann." he looked at her. "And if you try and lose the fear of the burning eye you will be able to face him."

"That's easy to say, but fear is quite a natural reaction when you find the worst evil of the whole of Middle-Earth staring at you in your dream." she said sarcastically.

Immediately after that she regretted such an impolite reaction. She knew he was only trying to make her feel better, but at the moment she would rather not talk about it at all.

"I know that dreams are a very abstract matter. There might be a partial solution, however; but I cannot assure you it will really help. The thing is, it's very easy for Sauron to command your body to burn, because you yourself cannot control this ability. I understand you have had your reasons to keep away from it, but I would consider it best if you tried to take control of it and learned to use it yourself." he looked at her, waiting for a reaction.

Dáireann couldn't quite hide her surprise. She has never thought of going back to the games of her childhood when she would sit in the dark basement and amuse herself by lightning candles and then putting them off in a different rhythm everytime. It has already been a very long time since she last tried to control fire and she wasn't sure she could still do it. Apart from burning like a torch in front of all her neighbours and acquaintances, she thought sarcastically. Still, she didn't have much of a choice. She had to admit that she _had_ hoped for a solution, and now that she got one, however uncertain it may be, she shouldn't dismiss it without ever trying.

"Will you help me?" she asked Gandalf.

"For as long as we stay here in Edoras, yes. However, you have to keep in mind that this will not stop those nightmares from recurring again; I am merely hoping it will diminish the danger that you, and the rest of the people here, might be in."

He had a concerned look on his face for a brief moment, but then his features loosened up again and he smiled at Dáireann.

"Well, it would be a pity if we spent such a wondeful evening thinking about such worrisome things, don't you think? Let's go back to the party and enjoy ourselves."

Dáireann nodded and so they walked back into the dining hall. Suddenly the silent night was replaced by loud music, laughing voices and the smell of liquor that had been spilt here and there on the floor when its drinker wasn't able to hold the jug anymore. Gandalf excused himself and disappeared into the crowd of people. Dáireann tried to look for Legolas, shoving the unnerving thoughts caused by her conversation with the wizard away. But as soon as she started to look around, someone caught her elbow.

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><p>It hasn't been long before Gimli, muttering unintelligible phrases, tumbled to the floor with a loud thud. So the stories about Dwarves and liquor were all true after all, thought Legolas. He also noted that the Rohirric drink wasn't as strong as Dáireann had said; at least not for him. It was fairly effective on his friend, however, and he quite amused himself by watching him becoming more and more intoxicated and along with that, rather inappropriate in manner of sharing stories which should have remained unknown, for the sake of all those who were close enough to hear them. He had someone take him to his chamber and was already excited about his reaction to losing to an 'Elven princelet', as he liked to call him.<p>

"I see you have won the game." said an amused voice next to him.

Legolas turned and smiled at Aragorn, who was watching the last minutes of the game and was one of the unfortunate onlookers who had the honor to learn something new about various intimate practices of the Dwarves.

"Oh yes, I did. But it would probably be the best if we stopped supplying him with liquor to a point when he tells us things we have never really wanted to know." he laughed.

"I noticed you have found a new friend here in Edoras." Aragorn looked at him.

"You mean Dáireann?"

"I haven't seen you speak to any other of the local citizens."

"Well, we _should_ be keeping an eye on her, especially in the light of recent events." he said, averting his gaze.

"It seems like you quite enjoy keeping an eye on her." Aragorn smirked at his friend.

Legolas felt rather uncomfortable having that kind of conversation. He was wondering about Dáireann ever since he saw her changed self that night and he had to admit he found her intriguing. But they have only known each other for a few days and undoubtedly they would have to leave for war sooner or later, so why bother himself with what could or couldn't be?

"Just leave me alone." he said trying to sound offended, but couldn't quite hide the smirk on his face.

Aragorn shook his head with a wide grin and watched as Legolas disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

><p>"Dáireann! Man, where have you been all this time?"<p>

She turned around and immediately recognised one of her neighbours, Breandan. Never being one to let people too close to herself, he was one of the few people Dáireann maintained an almost friendly relationship with.

"Breandan! Yes, it's been a while." she smiled.

With a wide smirk he shoved her to a nearby table and pushed her down to a wooden chair. Dáireann recognised most of the others who were sitting there – her neighbours, some of the maids she used to work with in the palace and merchants she bought vegetables and other supplies from everytime she went to the market. Without her even noticing, Breandan filled a jug full of liquor for her.

"Well then, to the brave men of Rohan!" he shouted and was followed by frantic cheering and emptying of the huge jugs all around the table.

Dáireann didn't touch hers. It has never been a custom in Rohan for women to partake in drinking, save perhaps occasions like this, as she could well see all around her. Still, there has never been any liquor in her house and she didn't particularly enjoy its bitter taste. Breandan noticed that her jug was still full and was immediately by her side.

"C'mon Dáireann! Don't spoil the fun!" he pushed the jug into her hands.

"No, I really don't feel like drinking right now." she politely shoved the jug away, but Breandan was adamant.

"Don't you honour the brave men who saved your life?" he said dramatically.

A few outbursts of laughter from somewhere behind her followed. Dáireann, feeling more and more embarrased, took a small sip, just to make him shut up.

"That's my girl!" he patted her on the shoulder.

"Man, drink some more!" someone across the table shouted.

"Maybe our little Dáireann needs some encouragement!" said Breandan and after giving her a wide smile, began chanting. "Dáireann! Dáireann!"

A few of his drunken companions joined him and Dáireann felt as if she'd rather bury herself in the stone floor. She knew Breandan was only joking, but she was seriously considering storming away when she has suddenly been saved from her embarrasment.

"May I borrow the lady for a while?" asked Legolas as he approached their table.

Dáireann could swear she saw him wink at her in amusement. He didn't wait for an answer and, gently taking her by the hand, led her away from the crowd onto the silent moonlit terrace.

"Your friends are quite loud, you know. I could hear them from across the whole room." he said playfully to break the silence.

"You can't imagine how thankful I am to you!" she laughed.

Dáireann noticed that Legolas seemed very sober, perhaps a little too sober for a person who had been participating in a drinking game for the past few hours.

"I presume you have won the drinking game?" she asked with amusement.

"I swept the board. The poor little man did not stand a chance." he laughed. "I had some maids take him to his chamber. He could not even stand up from the floor. I cannot wait to see his face in the morning." he said with a wide grin on his face.

Dáireann simply smiled. From what she knew about Elves, he could have been hundreds of years old; and yet at that very moment he reminded her of a young man still enjoying the carefree time of his life.

"You know, I've always imagined Elves to be much more different than you are." she said pensively.

"How so?"

"I don't know. I just thought… that they were a lot more different than humans."

"Hm… I guess some of us are. Maybe I have been spending too much time with men, hobbits and one annoying Dwarf lately." he chuckled.

"Well, I've certainly learned something new about Elves tonight – you don't get drunk very easily." she grinned. "So I guess you won't be able to tell me whether we really have the best music and most beautiful women, after all."

"I do not need any liquor to tell you it is true." he looked at her intently, as if he was thinking about something.

Dáireann felt a slight blush appear on her face and turned away to look at the moon once more. She was probably just imagining it, but she felt as if the comment was aimed at her. Could it be? A fine Elf like him could certainly aim much higher than for someone like her. The Elven maidens were said to be the fairest and most beautiful of all races and there would be no reason for him to turn away from them. The liquor must have got into him after all, she thought. Or maybe it was just her own silly mind that heard things that have never been said. As she was looking at the moon, she noticed it has almost completed its daily journey across the sky and the first weak light of the new day could be seen on the horizon.

"My, it must be almost morning already!" she exclaimed. "I'd better go and get at least a few hours' sleep. Good night." she said and made to leave the terrace quickly.

"Dáireann." he stopped her. She turned around to face him once more.

"Make sure to show that smile I saw tonight more often. It is the best jewel a maiden can wear."

"I will." she nodded her head and curving her lips into a smile one last time, she left him standing in the slowly disappearing moonlight.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, that's it, I hope you liked it! As always, reviews are appreciated - they help me develop this story and get better myself!<strong>


	6. Chapter 6 A Spark sets the Wood Aflame

**Chapter 6 – A Spark sets the Wood Aflame**

**Hey guys, here's another chapter. I hope you enjoy it, I tried to put a little bit more romance into this one. Once again, thank you for the kind reviews :) I hope you are enjoying this story. Let me know how you liked it!**

After Dáireann left for her chamber, Legolas decided to stay outside and cool off in the fresh breeze that was coming from the East together with the new day. He wondered whether he had made her feel uncomfortable; she left so quickly she barely even looked at him. Was his remark about the beautiful Rohirric women inappropriate? He didn't know himself why he had said something like that. Maybe the liquor has got into his head after all; or maybe it was her, with her long locks falling on the flattering white dress she wore that night and her face illuminated by the first rays of sunshine.

While he was lost in his thoughts, Aragorn joined him and watched the scenery of Rohan that was opening up in front of them. It made him snap back from his musings and as they watched the rising sun, an uneasy feeling crept into his heart. He knew something was coming; he had been feeling it ever since they entered Edoras for the first time. The inevitable that made even his warrior heart waver was drawing nearer every minute.

Just as he was explaining his feeling to Aragorn, a loud scream from the palace interrupted their conversation. They immediately recognised it was coming from the chamber in which the Fellowship had been accomodated. They ran there quickly and saw Pippin holding Saruman's palantír and screaming as if in pain.

After a few minutes of panic Gandalf managed to tear the dark ball out of his hands and immediately began interrogating the poor sweating hobbit about what he had seen _and_ what he had blabbed out to the Dark Lord, muttering insults along the way.

As Legolas listened to his little fellow, the uneasy feeling kept spreading in his heart. So it was all coming true; Sauron was building an army and was almost ready for battle.

"We will be leaving for Gondor immediately." Gandalf announced. "There is no time to lose. We need as many allies as we can gather in such a short time."

He sent out some servants to prepare everything necessary and as everyone was running aroud frantically, he called Legolas to a separated corner of the room.

"Listen well, Legolas. A war will have to be fought soon and to be quite honest, I had hoped we had more time before we had to face Sauron. Yesterday I promised Dáireann that I would help her learn to control her powers, to diminish the possibility of him taking possession of her again. However, the situation has changed and there are more important things to do." he frowned.

"What do you want me to do?" Legolas asked.

"Keep an eye on her until the bonfires are lit and you ride to battle. I don't know what Sauron might or might not do at this point; however, if he hadn't known about us being so close to her before, he is almost sure to know after tonight's incident. Therefore it is important that she should not be present anywhere near the battle, so that Sauron can't use her as one of his weapons against us."

"But is it not equally dangerous to leave her here in Edoras?" he asked.

"It is. That is why I have a task for you to fulfill. Here is a pendant I have prepared for the case of an emergency. You have to give it to Dáireann shortly before the battle. It is charmed; it will stop her heart from beating."

"You mean I should _kill_ her?" he asked in disbelief.

"No, not kill. It is only a temporal condition. It will keep her safe and prevent the Dark Lord from using her against us at the same time. However, it is crucial that you do not tell her. She might disapprove and I consider it best if we could solve this with as little commotion as possible." he looked Legolas in the eyes.

He didn't know what he should think of Gandalf's plan. It wasn't that he didn't trust him; he was a wise wizard and undoubtedly knew what he was doing. But the thought of actually stopping Dáireann's heart, even if only temporarily, left him feeling somewhat ambivalent. Could he really do it? Then again, it seemed to be the only solution.

"I will do it." he nodded.

"Do not worry, Legolas. It is only for her best." he squeezed his shoulder and with a small smile turned to leave the chamber.

* * *

><p>The warm sunrays tickled Dáireann on her face and slowly made her open her eyes and wake up. She stretched her muscles with a wide yawn. It has been a long time since she has slept so well; there were no nightmares that she would remember, no burning flames haunting her dreams. She stood up and as she looked out of the window she noticed people running to and fro about their daily duties. She must have slept quite long, she thought. The sun was already high in the sky.<p>

Her mind filled with positive thoughts, she decided to go outside and enjoy the warm sunshine. She went to a small terrace close to her chamber that was facing the city of Edoras. She leaned on the wooden railing and watched the people below her, smiling and breathing the morning air filled with city scents – fresh grass that was being cut somewhere on the hills, smoke rising from the chimneys and the smell of fresh-baked pastries coming from the local bakery that stood nearby.

"Good morning there, young lady." said a grumpy voice behind her.

She gasped and turned around to see the red-bearded Dwarf sitting on a chair in the terrace's corner. She hadn't noticed him there at all.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry. I didn't notice you." she apologized. "Good morning to you, too."

"That's alright. I tend to get overlooked." he didn't seem to be joking, but Dáireann chuckled nonetheless.

"I saw you had a good time yesterday. How are you feeling?" she asked, trying to hide the grin on her face.

"Argh." he grumbled. "I'm sure that little Elven princelet won't leave me alone about it all morning. You wouldn't believe an Elf of his status could behave like that!"

"What status? You mean he's actually a 'princelet'?" she laughed, thinking it was a kind of joke the two had.

"Mind ye, he is. From Mirkwood. But that doesn't make His Highness any better. You know, I beat him at Helm's Deep – killed one more Orc. Poor lad couldn't take it and pretended to kill one that was already dead. Pathetic, huh?" he laughed, but then added: "Aah well, we joke and insult each other, but he's a fine lad, ye know."

Dáireann listened to him with raised eyebrows. She had seen Legolas act noble and polite, but an actual Elven prince? That added a whole new dimension to him that she hadn't seen before. Now that she thought back about how she had been speaking to him, she wondered whether it was appropriate for a royal. He didn't seem to mind though; in fact, it surprised her that he'd never mentioned it before. People of such high social rank usually don't even try to hide it, and in some of the worse cases Dáireann had the pleasure to meet, they rant about it all the time, especially in the presence of servants and maids who can do nothing but smile politely and bow their way out of the room.

Dáireann thanked Eru that their own royal family was nothing like that. Since she was able to spend a little more time with Princess Éowyn than common townsfolk normally do, she discovered her to be a nice person with a clear view on life and just the right amount of self-confidence.

"There you are!" interrupted someone.

It was Legolas, who jumped onto the terrace and grinned widely at his Dwarf-friend.

"I have been looking for you all morning. You know, I was wondering how you are feeling." he was hardly trying to hide the satisfaction he felt when he saw his friend so grumpy after his last night's defeat.

Gimli only grunted and ignored his remarks. After fulfilling his morning task of annoying the Dwarf, Legolas turned to Dáireann, who had for a moment awkwardly been standing there watching the scene, to greet her good morning.

"Good morning. Have you only got up now?" he asked.

"Yes, I have. I slept very well last night. I guess even the sun wasn't able to wake me up in the morning." she smiled. She felt a little bit awkward talking to him after she rushed off so quickly the other night, but she simply shrugged the incident off as irrelevant, seeing as he probably never really bothered.

"That is good to hear." he said. "Well, now that I have found Gimli I will have to excuse us, we have an urgent meeting with my companions."

"We do?" asked Gimli, surprised.

Legolas simply nodded and watched as his friend slowly stood up, as if still in pain from falling off his chair the day before.

"Yes, yes of course." said Dáireann, wondering what could suddenly be so urgent. Unpleasant thoughts filled her mind.

"I will see you later." said Legolas and together with Gimli disappeared into the long corridors of the palace.

* * *

><p>Ever since Legolas had told her about the "urgent meeting", as he called it, Dáireann had been wondering whether some kind of conflict with the dark powers that were threatening their land could be near. She knew, <em>everyone<em> knew it was inevitable and drawing nearer with each passing day, but noone ever really talked about it; as if ignoring the fact that if their warriors should fail a catastrophe more horrible than anything even the oldest Rohirric people remember would be unleashed could be averted by simply acting as if there had never been such possibility. But deep inside they all knew better; noone could tell what might be after the Dark Lord would take over their land, but it was safe to say that their future wouldn't be any brighter than the dark skies that kept stretching out in all directions from across the border of Mordor.

Dáireann decided to talk to Éowyn. She was sure she knew exactly what was going on. It could probably be considered quite rude for her to ask about such important matters, but she needed to know. It concerned her, after all; just like everybody else.

She found her sitting in one of the stone halls of the palace, looking out of the window, lost in thoughts. With a silent greeting she joined her and allowed herself to sit next to her on a long upholstered canapé.

"It may be rude of me," she began cautiously, "but I need to ask you something, my lady."

"Go on."

"Will there be a war soon?" she asked, but as Éowyn didn't reply, she quickly added: "I apologize for my bluntness, but I cannot lose this feeling that something fearsome is approaching."

Éowyn sighed.

"There is no need to apologize. You have a right to know, after all. To be quite precise, we are at the brink of a war. Mordor is already summoning its army and the only thing we are waiting for is that Gondor lights its torches and enters into an alliance with us once more; for without them we are lost." she paused.

At first, Dáireann couldn't find any words to react to what her Princess had just said. Although she had been half expecting it, hearing it like this still shocked her. At the brink of a war? Could their doom be really that close?

"You know, Dáireann, I have made up my mind this morning." said Éowyn, breaking the silence.

"About what, my lady?"

"I want to fight for the future of my country, and all the people that are living here."

"But it's too dangerous." protested Dáireann. "You could be killed."

She knew Éowyn had been practised in using a sword, but training in the palace with her brother couldn't quite be compared to an actual battle.

"I could as well be killed right here, in this palace, if we were to lose the war against Mordor. I'd rather die in battle, helping those that are protecting us." she said resolutely.

"I understand what you're feeling, my lady. But isn't it too much of a risk? Surely we have a chance to win this battle even if you stay here in safety." said Dáireann, not quite believing her own words. Safety? Would it be safe _anywhere_ if Mordor's blood-thirsty creatures were raging in Middle-Earth?

"Dáireann, there will be no safety if we lose. You, and I, and everyone else – we have got nothing to lose, except maybe for the chance, unlikely as it is, that if we _do_ fight, the course of the battle could be changed." she looked at her intently.

Dáireann didn't reply. They sat in silence for a while. Éowyn's words were resonating in her head. She was right, she knew; they had nothing to lose. With Mordor's army mobilizing, they were all hurtling towards chaos and doom with a speed as quick as never before. Was fighting really worth it? Was it better to die in battle with the feeling that you at least tried to change the course of your fate, rather than die as an animal when a horde of Orcs invigorated by their victory attacked your house?

* * *

><p>Later that day Dáireann had for the first time visited the palace's library. The place was dusty and carried a strange smell of a room that hasn't been opened in a long time. She knew it <em>had<em> been used from time to time, but it seemed as if those four stone walls almost completely covered by wooden shelves full of volumes big and small refused to give up its charm of a seldomly visited chamber that, simple as it was, might be hiding many literary treasures the Kings of old had enjoyed in their time. She felt a bit awkward in that place; it had never been a custom for the common folk to read regularly, except perhaps for legends and stories that were read to children before they went to bed.

The reason she came there was that she hoped to find something more about the Elven culture on some of those old flavescent pages. The idea came to her mind that morning, when she realized that she was slowly beginning to know Legolas better and better, but she knew nothing of his background at all. She had never met any other Elf before him and since she needed something to free her mind of being troubled by the recent news and to get the day to go by faster, she decided to learn more about that, for her, foreign and unknown culture.

Hours passed by quickly as her mind was being pulled into the contents of the pages of a thick book, the only one she had found. There were many interesting things she had never heard about before and it made her realize that the Elves were much more different and complex than she had thought. As she had noted a number of times before, Legolas was always acting strangely _usual_, despite the undescribable noble air he seemed to be emanating. Dáireann wondered whether it had anything to do with him being so far away from his homeland and his native folk.

Immersed in the book as she was, she didn't notice a figure step into the room and peek over her shoulder.

"I see you are reading some interesting things." said Legolas playfully.

Dáireann literally jumped up from her chair with a squeek. She was so consumed by the book's many legends and drawings that she completely escaped reality and was shocked to suddenly be pulled back in it.

"Legolas! Oh my, you really scared me."

"I apologize."

"No, that's… that's alright." she tried to regain her composure.

Suddenly she felt very embarrased about him seeing what she was reading; as if she was in some way stalking him behind his back. For a brief moment she considered trying to close the book and act as if it was just lying there by coincidence, but she immediately realized it would be a very stupid thing to do, seeing as he already knew what she had been reading about.

"If you have any questions, feel free to ask." he said and seated himself next to her on the long wooden bench.

Dáireann was greatful that he didn't inquire as to why she was reading about his culture in the first place. She considered his offer for a moment and then said:

"Is it true that you're never going to die unless you're killed in battle or otherwise injured?"

"Yes, it is." he said with a small smile on his lips.

Dáireann was fascinated by the idea that something, or someone, could live forever. She had never imagined that something like that could be possible. However, she had too been wondering whether she herself would want that kind of fate.

"How does it feel?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Living forever. Is it really worth it?"

He seemed to be thinking.

"That is a tough question. One would suppose being immortal allows you to do everything there is in the course of your life. But to be quite honest, before this journey, I have hardly ever left my homeland." he paused for a while. "I wonder whether I have done everything I could have with that great gift."

Dáireann chuckled. "Well, you have a whole eternity to do everything you haven't done up until now."

She tried to make a little joke, but instead of a smile, she noticed that his expression turned more serious and he frowned.

"I wish I could say otherwise, but I am beginning to doubt there is an eternity awaiting me."

She sighed. "You mean the war, right?" she said silently.

Dáireann had been feeling uneasy about the issues with Mordor ever since Éowyn told her about the upcoming war, but to actually hear from an experienced warrior that he didn't expect to survive brought dark thoughts to her mind once again.

Suddenly she felt an urge to somehow make him feel better; he seemed quite down and lost in troubling thoughts. She realized that the Elf sitting next to her had, since the day they met, for some reason she couldn't quite fathom, been helping her and had been there for her whenever she needed someone to comfort her. She had to do something in return. Although she felt a little bit awkward and wasn't sure whether she wasn't being inappropriate, she placed her hand on his forarm and gently pressed it in an effort to let him know she too was there for him when he needed her.

"Legolas, you are a great warrior. You fought against a number of Orcs that exceeded our own by thousands and still you protected us all. Believe me, I too am scared, very scared indeed; but as long as I know there are brave men like you on our side we still have hope for a brighter future."

* * *

><p>Legolas was surprised to suddenly feel the warm touch of her palm on his arm. He had been wondering about the strange and new feelings he was slowly discovering whenever Dáireann was near for some time. Were they real? What was their meaning? He wasn't quite sure at that moment either; the only thing he knew is that somewhere deep down, however inconspicious a feeling it might have been, he wished she would never let go. Even her words, which in the current situation might have seemed empty and meaningless coming from someone else, felt strangely comforting and reassuring.<p>

Maybe it had been an uncoscious action, but he suddenly found himself holding the fragile hand that was comforting him.

"Let us make a promise, Dáireann." he said. "We will meet, here in this palace, after the war is over."

He wasn't quite sure if he believed his own words and whether the fulfillment of such a promise was possible. But he knew he had to fight with all he had, if not for his homeland and the whole of Middle-Earth, then at least for her. A warrior shouldn't hesitate to sacrifice his life for the good of his people; and Legolas surely didn't. He also knew that if there was a chance for victory, Dáireann had a future that, along with other things, he was ready to fight for. But even despite his resoluteness, there was a tiny silent voice inside his head that kept asking him whether he could have a place in that future…

Dáireann pulled him back from his musings as she replied:

"Yes, let's meet here again." she smiled at him, but he could see sadness in her eyes.

After that they didn't speak anymore and only sat there, Legolas still holding her hand. He couldn't deny that he enjoyed the warm touch of her fingers and wondered whether she had too. She hadn't pulled back and so he took that as permission to remain in that moment for a while longer, neither of them speaking a single word.

Even after he left her alone in the library, the feeling of her warm touch lingered on on his hand.

* * *

><p><strong>Soooo that's it. It's getting a little bit more romantic, I hoped you enjoyed it!<strong>


	7. Chapter 7 Burning Chambers

**Chapter 7 – Burning Chambers**

**A/N: Hey guys, thanks again for reading this story and for the reviews I've got! This chapter is a little bit shorter than usual and I found it kind of hard to write, so I would appreciate any kind of feedback. Enjoy!**

In the evening, Dáireann was sitting in her chamber and looking at the vague moon's shape that could only be found in the night sky thanks to a few rays of moonlight that managed to penetrate through the dark clouds onto the plains of Rohan. She didn't like how quickly the weather had changed in the course of that day; the pending thunderstorm seemed to her a constant reminder of the about-to-be-unleashed chaos that was hurtling towards them with the speed of a lightning.

Every now and then flashbacks of that day's afternoon shot through her troubling thoughts. She was surprised to see Legolas open up to her about his worries, but what surprised her even more was the fact that she was worried, too. Not about herself, but about him. Worried that in the situation such as it was, he might really not come back from the battle. She didn't know why, but that afternoon she felt closer to him than before; she felt as if he started to let her see deeper inside him, and Dáireann found she was intrigued by what she saw. However, she felt as if she wasn't doing the right thing. After his reluctance to let go of her grasp and the silent moments in the library, however pleasant they might have been, she realized the Elf's charm had been digging its way through her mind and into her heart. But was that all really worth it? What would he think of her if he knew? He was a Prince, after all, not to mention an Elven one. There were far too many things that only entrenched Dáireann in believing that what she was slowly starting to feel was wrong.

With all those thoughts swirling through her head, Dáireann lay down to sleep, hoping she could tear herself away from the worries of the real world and slip into a better, worry-free place.

* * *

><p>Legolas woke up because of something tingling on his face. As he opened his eyes, he almost gasped with shock: he found Dáireann lying next to him on his matress, stroking his face with her long fingers. He immediately felt a wave of uneasiness and wariness spread across his body. She was looking at him, but he knew it wasn't really her. Her irises had turned strangely black, a kind of pitch-black he had never seen before in anybody's eyes.<p>

"Dáireann?" he found himself whispering.

She didn't reply. A wide grin slowly spread across her face as she leaned in closer and whispered to his ear:

"It is over."

She then slowly stood up, the creepy grin lingering on her face, making her otherwise pleasant features seem kind of distorted.

How come he didn't hear her come in? Legolas wondered whether it was even possible for his Elven senses to have failed him. He noticed Aragorn get up from his matress, too.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking at Dáireann and as he got no reply, he turned to Legolas. He could see on his frowning face that he too felt something wrong was happening.

"It… is… over." said Dáireann again, adding more stress to the disturbing words.

"Wake up, Dáireann." said Legolas, eyeing her suspiciously.

She only kept grinning, saying nothing else. Suddenly, with one quick motion of her hand, a fire started spreading across the whole room, leaving only a small space in the middle where they had been sleeping. Aragorn jumped up from his matress and ran to the exit, but found the heavy wooden door locked.

"Dáireann, wake up!" Legolas shouted louder, hoping to tear her away from the dreams that had such power over her, but to no avail.

The rest of his companions jumped out of their beds coughing and in panic as they opened their eyes to face the burning flames.

"What's going on?" yelled Merry, covering his face from the smoke that made his eyes swell up with tears.

Legolas was at his wit's end. There was panick all around; he heard soldiers and servants running to their chamber from the other side of the door and banging on it; Merry was screaming and trying to put out the flames with his blanket; Aragorn was trying to break the lock on the door with his sword.

He himself tried whatever he could think of to wake Dáireann up. He shook her, screamed at her, but nothing seemed to help. She just stood there numbly, the creepy grin still distorting her face.

And then, at that very moment, a huge splash of water landed on Dáireann's head, sending waterdrops in Legolas' direction as well. It seemed as if for a brief moment everything stopped in time. They all looked at her in amazement, and then looked over to Gimli, who was holding an empty jar in his hands. As stupid and ridiculous as it might have been in the current situation, that very simple act of a grumpy Dwarf whose beard had cought on fire actually worked.

Dáireann woke up with a deep gasp, as if she had been drowning underwater and was finally allowed to breathe again. She stood there stupefied, watching the strange scene that was unfolding in front of her, not understanding what was happening.

Legolas could see a growing fear in her eyes as she was beginnig to grasp what had happened. He had no time to explain; a few short moments after she was pulled back to reality the Rohirric soldiers, along with Aragorn, finally managed to break into the chamber. As they poured inside, carrying heavy barrels full with water, panic unleashed all around; people were streaming in and out, trying to put out the flames that were slowly climbing up the wooden pillars and walls, threatening to sneak into the neighboring halls of the palace.

* * *

><p>When all that was over and the only thing left of the blazing flames was black smoke rising from the tiny window of their chamber and penetrating through the door and into the hallways, Legolas found Dáireann sitting in the hallway's corner, her head in her hands. Without saying a word, he sat down next to her on the stone floor which was surprisingly warm, heated by the recent fire, and put his blanket over her soaked body.<p>

She lifted up her head and looked at him. He noticed that she had probably been crying; her eyes were a little bit swollen and her voice shook as she spoke.

"This madness has to stop." she almost whispered. "You all could have been killed!" she said as if she herself couldn't believe what just happened.

"Dáireann…" he tried to think of proper words to make her feel better, but he found none.

Instead Legolas opted for a comforting touch of his fingers on her back and remained silent. He couldn't deny, at least after the events of that night, that she _was_ dangerous, no matter how much he'd wished otherwise. In a situation like that, he would very much appreciate the advice of someone as wise as Gandalf; but Gandalf was in Gondor, and he felt helpless.

Dáireann suddenly straightened her back, her gaze aimed to the distance, as if she was in deep thought.

"I'll go to my room." she slowly stood up.

Before she started leaving the smoky hallway, she turned around and looked at him. "You know, I just wish my life was back to normal."

With that, she left Legolas alone in the hallway, wondering whether he should say something; but the words simply didn't come out of his mouth.

* * *

><p>Back in her chamber, Dáireann didn't waste any time and quickly grabbed a small leather bag she had brought to the palace and began stuffing it with whatever she found important. She was aware that her dicision to leave that very night was probably too harsh and not very well tought-out, but what was she to do? What other way was there to prevent anything similar from happening? They were lucky enough the flames didn't penetrate through the whole palace, which was built almost of nothing but wood.<p>

By that time Dáireann had already noticed that Legolas and his companions were playing a major role in the war with Mordor; it was therefore very important not to endanger them, or anybody for that matter, any further. She didn't know where she would go or what she would do after she left the palace, but she tried to silence the little voice inside her head that was telling her she was being stupid. Dáireann was desperate; all those dreams, muffled voices, the burning eye, and now this… This was too much. She had, ever since those dreams started appearing, hoped that somehow Sauron would be defeated without her having to be part of it. But now all those hopes were lost, and she knew she could stay in the palace no longer.

Very early, before dawn, when the whole palace seemed to become quiet once more, Dáireann sneaked into the stables and, trying to cause as little commotion as possible, set out through the wide plains of Rohan towards the dark hills whose peaks were still covered in storm-clouds. She had no destination, nor had she any idea what she would do after she had reached that unknown place. The only thing she knew was that a war was approaching, and for the sake of the visitors who were ready to protect her country _and_ for her own sake, she'd better got as far away from them as possible.

* * *

><p>Legolas was lying in a new bed in another chamber they had been given, still wide awake in spite of the late night hour. He wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep after the strange incident that happened earlier; he heard his companions toss and turn in their beds every now and then, Gimli even adding a few swears about how his night was ruined along the way.<p>

At first he considered going after Dáireann right then and there, in the hallway, but then decided against it. He had nothing soothing to say and later thought it may be better if she had some time alone. Instead he chose to visit her early in the morning to see how she was doing. Also, some precautions would have to be made; although, as they hoped, it was only a matter of time until the torches would be lit and he would have to give Dáireann Gandalf's pendant, they couldn't simply leave the matter unresolved and hope nothing would happen until the time came.

As soon as he saw the sky outside grow lighter, he got up and looked out of the window. It was morning already, but only few people could be seen outside. The dark clouds above their heads were threatening to turn into a storm any minute and strong gusts of wind bended the trees and took anything that was light enough with them.

Quietly, he slipped out of their chamber and made his way towards Dáireann's room. When he reached it, he gently knocked on it, wondering whether she was still asleep; or whether she had been sleeping at all. However, he got no answer and as he made to knock once more, he noticed that the door was open. Surprised, he slowly opened it only to see an empty bed on which her night-gown was lying. All of the drawers were open and almost empty. The room had been left in quite a chaotic state, as if someone wanted to leave fast and didn't bother with tidying up.

Legolas had a bad feeling about it. Could it be Sauron had taken possession of her once more? Or worse, could she have left by her own will? He couldn't imagine what a girl like her would do out in the wild Rohirric mountains, with a thunderstorm threatening to break loose any minute.

However unpleasant a feeling he might have had, he decided not to lose his head and chose to ask someone about her instead. Maybe it all was completely different; although he hardly considered that an option.

Just as he turned the corner, he almost bumped into Éowyn who was running along the long corridor.

"Legolas!" she cried in surprise.

"Oh! I am sorry, my lady."

"No, it is my fault. There's pure chaos down by the horses. They feel the pending storm. I have to go get our stable master." she said, her speech interrupted by her heavy breathing. "Also, it seems one of the horses ran away. Pure chaos, I tell you!"

"Ran away?" Legolas frowned. It all fitted together, only making him more sure that Dáireann wouldn't be found anywhere in the palace.

"Princess Éowyn, have you seen Dáireann since yesterday's incident?" he said with concern in his voice.

"No, why do you ask? Isn't she in her chamber?"

"No, she is not." he said and without explaining any further, he turned away and ran in the direction of the palace stables.

Éowyn was telling the truth; it was pure chaos everywhere. The servants were trying to calm down the neighing and snorting animals. He ignored them and ran over to his own horse, which was much more peaceful than the others, but Legolas could still feel uneasiness emanating from his animal companion.

"_Do not worry, my friend_." he whispered to his ear in Elvish.

Just as he was about to jump on the horse, a voice stopped him.

"Legolas! What are you doing?" cried Aragorn, trying to outshout the turmoil in the stables.

After dodging the restless horses and the desperate stablemen, he reached his Elven friend.

"You have to stay here." he said. "The torches might be lit at any moment. Besides, it is impossible to ride in this weather." he added, motioning with his hand to the dark sky.

"Dáireann is gone." Legolas said, ignoring his friend's reasoning. "But she could not have made it too far. I will be back soon enough."

Aragorn seemed to be surprised to hear about her disappearance. He was thinking for a while and then simply looked at Legolas with a glance that revealed concern for his friend. With a sigh, he said:

"I hope she is worth it, my friend."

Legolas looked at him and simply nodded. "She is."

Without any further words, he jumped onto his horse and spurred him on in the direction of the hills cloaked in the dark veil of the approaching thunderstorm, relying on his Elven senses to track down the woman that simply wouldn't let him rest.

* * *

><p>Ever since the moment she passed through the gates of Edoras, Dáireann hadn't turned around and tried to concentrate on what lay before her, but the strong gusts of wind that brought small particles of sand and dust into her eyes made that nearly impossible. She had to rely on her horse which, regardless of her presence, rode on and on towards the mountains. She had no idea how to command the animal and so, thinking she had no particular destination anyways, let herself get carried away from her native city.<p>

After hours of riding they slowly passed from the flat plains onto higher hills that surrounded the valley in which Edoras lay. On one of the hills Dáireann spotted an old ruin behind which the line of mountain forests already emerged. Since it had already begun to grow dark, she thought it not too clever to travel in the gloomy woods; she could also feel that the thunderstorm was at the brink of breaking loose, and so the only smart option seemed to be finding shelter somewhere between those old stones covered in moss.

It took her some time to direct the horse exactly where she intended to. He resisted at first, but after a few tries allowed Dáireann to spurr him in the direction of the ruin. They found a conveniently built stone wall that, at least as she hoped, could protect them from the raging weather. She even tried to light a small fire for the night, but the strong wind always put the flames off immediately after they were set.

Dáireann didn't know how much time had passed since they came to their nightly shelter. She couldn't fall asleep; partly because of the cold and the fear that the dark forest stirred in her, and partly because of the thoughts that refused to leave her mind. Was Legolas worried about her? Could he be looking for her? A tiny part of her wished it was true, slowly realizing what a stupid thing running away with no plan whatsoever was. But that would be exactly the opposite of what she had intended; besides, was there a reason for him to be looking for her? Ever since the afternoon in the library she had been wondering whether it actually meant anything to him. One surely does not behave like that with someone they barely know for no reason, she thought. Then again, maybe she was only hoping for something that, for _many_ reasons, could never happen.

She was pulled back from her thoughts by something she heard coming from the dark. _Voices_, she thought. They gradually grew louder and louder and Dáireann realized with horror that they belonged to a horde of Orcs coming in her direction. A shiver went down her spine. She tried to lean as close to the cold stone as possible, hoping it would somehow make her invisible. What worried her more was the horse; if those filthy creatures intended to pass the old ruin, they would surely be found.

Just as she was considering her options, she felt a pair of hands tangle around her waist and pull her away from the stone; one strong hand covering her mouth, making her instinctive attempt at screaming nearly impossible.


	8. Chapter 8 The Wood Flares Up

**Chapter 8 – The Wood Flares Up**

**A/N: Hey guys! As always, thank you very much for your kind reviews and your support. Tomorrow I'll be leaving to Poland for a week to attend a workshop and I'm not sure how much time I will have for writing/publishing (I'm not even sure about the internet connection, hopefully there'll be some!), so it may take a little longer for the next chapter to appear. But I'll try my best, promise!**

On his horse, Legolas was rushing towards the Rohirric mountains with a speed as high as his animal companion was able to reach. Every once in a while he had to cover his face from the wind that grew stronger by the minute. The weather was indeed most inconvenient for riding outside on the open plains, but Legolas didn't care. Dáireann was somewhere out there, alone, left at the mercy of the raging weather and whatever creatures might have been lurking in the dark mountain forests.

As he entered the road that lead through a narrow valley between the mountain slopes, his Elven senses helped him notice that something, or rather someone, had taken that very same route not so long ago. He swiftly jumped off his horse and observed the groud, looking for traces of the recent passers. He was sure Dáireann's horse rode on that very road a few hours ago. But he noticed some other tracks which made him jump back on his horse and ride forth even faster than before.

_Orcs_.

He knew they were passing the same route as Dáireann and would eventually have to come across each other. She was undoubtedly in danger.

After he had passed the mountain valley and ascended a rocky slope that stood at its end, a view opened up in front of him of a great glen where the line of the dense woods already emerged. On a small clearing where the first trees and bushes grew, he noticed something that seemed to be an old ruin of some sort, and not so far away, he finally spotted the horde of Orcs he had been pursuing.

Legolas could see there weren't many; probably nine or ten. They were all sitting around a fire in the lee of the robust trees. Dáireann couldn't have been too far away; he guessed she wouldn't dare enter the dark forest at night. To make sure he descended unnoticed, he left his horse up on the hill and ran down a stony path, pausing and hiding behind a rock every once in a while, slowly approaching Sauron's blood-thirsty subordinates.

* * *

><p>After Dáireann overcame the initial shock and in spite of the feelings of panic that filled up almost her entire mind began thinking straight again, she immediately knew whom the strong arms that refused to let her go belonged. It was undoubtedly one of the Orcs; she could feel it from the touch of its filthy hand on her face. He dragged her towards his horde that was crammed around a tiny fire.<p>

"Look what I brought!" she heard a voice from behind her say. "Dinner!"

The Orc laughed in a deep raspy voice. Some of the others joined him.

"That's not enough for all of us, ya idiot!" cried a particularly short one, his spine strangely crooked.

"Shut up, you filthy git!" yelled the Orc behind Dáireann's back.

Dáireann was cautiously watching the scene before her, trying to move as little as possible, as if by not moving she was hoping to become invisible. It was the first time in her life to see Orcs from such a short distance. She heard stories about how hideous and creepy they were; but they didn't even slightly match with what she had to see.

She could feel fear and horror spread in her veins as a rather robust Orc approached her with a sword in his hand.

"So, what shall we cut off first?" he said with a vicious smile on his distorted face. "The arm? Or perhaps the fingers, one by one?"

Some of the Orcs cracked up laughing. Dáireann didn't feel quite so good; her breathing got heavier and she found herself close to tears. The heroes in most Rohirric stories were always brave, even in the face of a fearful enemy. Before, she used to think that it was a trait common for everybody; that little bit of courage in dangerous, life-threatening situations that would miraculously emerge when the person needed it most. But she waited for it in vain; there was no courage in her heart, only horror, fear and despair.

She felt a drop of cold sweat run down her neck as the sharp sword, still dirty with dried blood of unknown victims, was brought closer to her face; the Orc obviously enjoying his little game.

"Just kill her already, you wimp!" cried some of his companions.

At that very moment, Dáireann felt something swish past her face. The Orc behind her tumbled and fell backwards, his heavy body pulling her down with him. Surprised, she watched the scene before her. It all happened so quickly she didn't have time to comprehend what was going on; arrows were flying in all directions, killing some of the Orcs as quickly as a lightning.

She finally understood when a tall warrior figure jumped down from a tree.

_Legolas_, she thought.

And she barely had time to think of anything else. He swiftly drew his sword and swayed it in the direction of the nearest Orc. It was the first time Dáireann saw him fighting; he seemed very different from the polite, even gentle-looking Elf she came to know during their days in Edoras. What stood before her now was a fierce warrior who, unlike herself, stood bravely face to face with the enemy and fought them off quite easily, living up to what Dáireann had heard about the combat skills of the Elves.

To her it seemed as if it all happened in a flash. As the last stroke fell, she felt drops of Orc blood land on her face. Legolas shot one last look at the pile of dead bodies, then knealt down to her side and helped her sit up.

"Dáireann! Are you alright?" he asked, still short of breath from fighting the creatures.

Dáireann couldn't answer. There were far too many feelings swirling through her head; the fear and horror that came with the realization that she could easily have been killed; the joy and relief she felt as she saw the familiar face again; the surprise over seeing that Legolas had taken the trouble to look for her and had just saved her life.

She felt all those emotions digging their way to the surface and before she knew it, she started crying. Amongst this inner chaos, she found herself leaning on Legolas' shoulder. It felt right, almost natural. Without a moment of hesitation, as if it was quite normal between them, he put his arms around her and whispered:

"You are safe now, Dáireann."

* * *

><p>After threatening to break loose at any moment for the past few hours, the cold drops of rain finally started falling from the sky in great amounts, sped up by the ever-blowing wind. Legolas and Dáireann quickly found shelter in the nearby ruin which, after closer inspection, provided a barricade against the stormy weather and even allowed them to set fire on a pile of wood that Legolas was able to collect before it got too wet.<p>

For what seemed like eternity they sat there in silence, until Dáireann finally decided to break it.

"Why have you come here, Legolas?"

Immediately after she asked it, the question seemed silly. She should have been thanking him for coming and saving her life. But then she remembered why she was there – to get away from him, for his own sake.

He stood up with a sigh and sat down next to her.

"There is blood on your face." he said, ignoring her question.

He rolled his sleeve over his hand and gently removed the red droplets from her forehead and cheeks. That brief, strangely comforting touch caught her a little bit off guard. She quickly regained her composure, however, and asked again.

"_Why_ have you come here?" she said, measuring his face with her eyes.

"Why do you think?" he replied, his features showing nothing of his thoughts.

"It could be dangerous, being here alone with me like this, after what happened in the palace."

She looked away, feeling slight discomfort from his piercing gaze.

"I am not afraid of him, Dáireann." he said. "If to save myself from his malicious ways means to put your life into danger like this, I would rather risk the few burning flames."

For a while she watched his face, wondering what he had meant. She felt blood rushing to her face as those words resonated in her head. Why would he be risking his life for someone like her?

Deep inside, she knew the answer. But whatever joy she might have felt over realizing Legolas too may have been developing feelings for her, she also knew there was no possible chance for them to be together. He was going to war, a war whose prospects weren't very bright. What bugged her most, however, was the knowledge that she was dealing with an Elven prince. Even if he _had_ felt the same way she was slowly starting to, she had been raised in a society were common folk like her and the nobles and royals belonged to two diametrically different worlds that were not supposed to be crossed on a personal level. To her, it all seemed kind of… _inappropriate._

"You have never told me you were a prince." she changed the subject.

Dáireann had wanted to ask him about it ever since she found out, but there didn't seem to be any appropriate moment up until then.

Legolas seemed surprised to find that she knew about his status.

"How do you know?"

"Gimli told me."

"I should have known." he smiled, then looked at her once again. "Would you ever talk to me like this if I had given it away?"

She considered his question for a while, but then had to admit: "Probably not."

"That is exactly why I do not like to pride myself with my family background. It is all very different now, with the great friendship I have found in my companions. They do not mind who I am. But many of the other people do."

"Well, you don't see an Elven royal in Rohan every day." she remarked.

"You know, Dáireann, the life in a King's palace is not only about the pleasurable things. It is a small world that we belong to and sometimes it is hard to be who you really are. You are expected to behave according to many rules and live up to everybody's expectations." he sighed.

Dáireann listened in silence. She had never considered the darker side of being at the head of a country. It was a world that was only glorified among the townsfolk of Edoras, not taking into account the immense responsibility Legolas, just like many others, must have felt towards his homeland.

She was interrupted from her thoughts when he spoke again.

"Does me being a prince change anything, Dáireann?" he asked, looking at her intently.

She contemplated the question for a brief moment and then answered, trying to bring a comforting smile to her face: "No, of course it doesn't."

But she wasn't sure whether she was telling the truth. She felt closer to him then ever, and yet she also felt as if the gap between them that she had felt ever since she met the Elf for the first time grew even wider. She was falling for someone who was too far for her to reach and she didn't know what to do.

* * *

><p>The next morning the sky was clear again, only occasional clouds floating here and there on the big blue surface. As soon as the first light of the new day woke them up, Legolas and Dáireann set out on a journey back to Edoras.<p>

Most of the time they travelled in silence. Legolas kept pondering over their conversation in the shelter of the ruin the night before. She told him everything was the same as before despite her knowing of his status, but he felt she wasn't telling the truth. He mentally cursed his Dwarf friend for telling her. By that time he was gradually beginning to accept his growing feelings for the Rohirric girl and was concerned that finding out about his family might have scared her off. He realized there were many obstacles in the way – his race, and his title. Maybe it was too much for her to ignore and simply look at him for who he was, untainted by what position fate had placed him into.

While such worrisome thoughts kept swirling in his mind, they passed the last mountain valley and saw Edoras in the distance. It didn't take too long to reach; they arrived around noon.

And, as Legolas found out later, it was just in time – that very day the beacons of Gondor had been lit, pleading for Rohan's alliance. Thankfully, Kind Théoden decided to summon an army and ride to aid Gondor in spite of his earlier hesitancy. There wasn't much preparation left – the lighting of the beacons was most anticipated and so everything had been prepared in advance.

Legolas learned from Éowyn that Dáireann wished to accompany them on their journey to Dunharrow, where it was planned to set up a campsite for the army. He hadn't spoken to her since they arrived that morning and only caught a glimpse of her as they all set off on their horses, leaving the wooden gates of Edoras behind them; some of the soldiers never to return again, he thought bitterly. She shot him a quick glance and then rode forth on Princess Éowyn's side.

* * *

><p>In the evening, the campsite was already set. Their tents were located at the top of a steep cliff at Dunharrow. Most of the time they had been discussing their chances, various battle strategies and other things that might prove necessary in the battle with Mordor. After a long tiring debate, Legolas decided to cool off in the nightly air. As he stepped out of the tent, he noticed Dáireann sitting in a solemn place away from the buzz of the soldiers, watching the bright moon that shone over her features. It made her look somehow ethereal, he thought.<p>

He remembered the task Gandalf had placed upon him before he left for Gondor and decided that it was the right moment to fulfill it. However, his growing fondness of the woman who was sitting there in the moonlight made it even harder for him to think her heart would stop beating, even if it was only temporary. He trusted Gandalf, he would trust him with his own life; but this, this felt different. But if it was what he had to do to keep Dáireann safe from the dark powers he himself would have to face very soon, he was resolved to do it.

He slowly approached her.

"Good evening, Dáireann."

She didn't seem to be surprised to see him. She slowly stood up and faced him, a strange expression on her face that to him seemed even close to sadness.

"Aragorn, Gimli and I will be leaving in a few minutes' time." he said.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise.

"I thought the army wasn't supposed to leave until tomorrow."

"We will be taking a different route, through the Path of the Dead." he explained.

"But that is dangerous!" He could hear concern in her voice.

"Would it not be equally dangerous to go with the army?" he asked and felt a sad smile spread on his face. "It is not safe anywhere now, Dáireann."

As he said that he slowly drew closer to her and without a single word took the pendant out of his pocket and fastened it around her neck. He enjoyed the brief contact; they were so close their bodies were almost touching. He could feel the warmth of her face close to his own.

Dáireann stiffened with surprise. As he stepped away again, she took the pendant and looked down at it, observing its features.

"It is a gift. It will protect you from the evil that is now trying to spread across our homelands." he said quietly.

Legolas observed her for a moment. Her gaze was still fixed on the little piece of silver he had given her. He wondered what was so fascinating about it to keep her concentrated on it for so long, but he immadiately understood as she finally lifted her gaze to look at him.

Dáireann was crying.

Her eyes had turned red and small droplets began rolling down her cheeks. Legolas was startled by such an emotional reaction; until then, especially after their conversation in the Rohirric mountains, he was sure that she was starting to grow apart from him, that he started losing the woman that had after a long time stirred feelings in him; emotions that he hadn't felt for ages. But now, she was standing in front of him, clutching his present in her palm and crying.

Suddenly, she drew closer to him and embraced him with her long, delicate arms.

"I don't want you to go." she whispered to his ear.

He found himself clutching her even closer to his body. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her skin. For a moment they stood there motionless, neither of them wanting to break the first intimate contact. Legolas knew it might have been the last time he held her like that; the last time he saw her face.

"Legolas! Where are you? We have to go!"

They were interrupted by Gimli's shouting voice coming from somewhere behind the many tents at Dunharrow. Legolas slowly broke their contact and looked at Dáireann, whose face was still covered in warm tears.

"I will not forget the promise we made, Dáireann." he said, wiping the tears from her face. "We shall meet again."

She remained silent. He measured her face one last time and slowly began walking away. He held her hand until their fingertips brushed past each other and nothing more remaind of her sweet warm touch on his skin. He shot one last look at her, swiftly turned away and began walking in the direction of Gimli's voice, afraid that if he looked around one more time, he would have to fight the urge to grab her and run far far away, to a place where Mordor's evil couldn't reach them; a place where only she would matter.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, finally a little bit of romance again! Let me know how you liked it.<strong>


	9. Chapter 9 Under the Blazing Sun

**Chapter 9 – Under the Blazing Sun**

**A/N: Hey guys! Sooo sorry it took me so long to update. I've been quite busy recently because of the upcoming exams and all. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this chapter in spite of the long wait :) as always, feedback is appreciated!**

* * *

><p>Dáireann couldn't tear her gaze away from Legolas' back as he was leaving in the direction of the dimly lit tents; leaving for a battle that he might never return from. The flow of warm tears out of her eyes was persistent and refused to stop even after the Elf disappeared in the dark of the starless night.<p>

Dáireann felt scared more than ever; scared of many things. Of losing yet another dear person to the evil powers of the Dark Lord, a person whom she had been growing fonder of everyday and who, so it seemed, had requitted her feelings. However, what she was even more scared of were those very feelings and emotions that made her heart skip a beat whenever he was around. She would have wished for nothing more than to, for a split second, forget everything and actually believe the two of them had a future. But was that even possible? Did he too percieve the boundaries between them? Whatever the case, she thought, all the worries would have no meaning if she should never see Legolas' face again. The doubts, however, were slowly being pushed to the farthest corners of her mind and with the first big clash with Mordor drawing nearer and nearer, were replaced by desperate hope that she might see him again, at least once, in a Middle-Earth that had been rid of all the evil that had for far too long been threatening all of its diverse population.

After realizing that she had been for quite some time staring into an empty blackness that stretched in the direction of the Paths of the Dead, Dáireann decided to retire to the tent that had been built for her and some other servants who had been brought along the army to take care of various supplies and cook stews for the hungry soldiers. She expected to find it empty, since everyone was busy doing whatever was needed before their departure the next day; contrary to her assumption, however, she was surprised to find Princess Éowyn sitting inside, nervously clutching the hem of her skirt.

"Lady Éowyn?" Dáireann asked, startled by her sudden presence.

"Oh, there you are, Dáireann." she exclaimed with relief.

"Is there something you need, my lady?"

"Yes. I hope I can trust you, Dáireann," she stood up, "that you will not tell anybody about my plans."

Éowyn looked at her intently, obviously expecting an affirmative answer. For a few seconds Dáireann had no idea what plans her princess could possibly have been talking about, but then the memory of one sunny afternoon just after the big celebration in Edoras popped up in her mind.

…_I want to fight for the future of my country, and all the people that are living here…_

All of a sudden, everything was clear to her.

"So you really want to go to the battle, my lady?" she asked, keeping a neutral expression on her face.

"Yes, I have already decided. I will need your help with putting on my armour tomorrow." she said, then added: "It is essential that I am not recognised among the soldiers; my uncle would never approve of it."

Dáireann didn't try to persuade her princess otherwise; it wasn't her place to protest, after all. She simply bowed her head slightly and with a simple "yes", she was left alone in the tent, Éowyn disappearing behind the loosely hanging cloth door.

* * *

><p>As Éowyn left, Dáireann noticed that she suddenly felt very hot. Her face was flushed and she could feel small droplets of sweat form on her forehead. She had felt it before, too, but she had ascribed it to the emotional strain of that evening. Now it felt more like a high fever, an illness perhaps; she could feel her heart beat at an almost unbearable pace and here and there unexplainable stings in her chest made her crouch and lie down on a makeshift bed that had been spread in the tent.<p>

Gradually, she found it harder to breathe, partly because of her suddenly rather bad physical condition, partly because of the panic she was starting to feel. There was noone around and she didn't understand what was happening; could anyone at all help her if it got more serious?

Suddenly, a flash of fire shot through her chaotic thoughts and was gone just as fast as it came. It startled Dáireann, but in the mixture of fever, pain and panic that she had found herself in, she was unable to fully comprehend its meaning.

She slowly lost track of time; she had been numbly lying on the uncomfortable mattress and together with her mind gradually drifting off, more flashes and images of burning flames inconspiciously found their way into her mind once again.

* * *

><p>Closing her eyes, Éowyn let out a deep sigh to calm her nervous mind. She stood in a crowd of fully armed soldiers that were slowly gathering below the steep cliff and enjoying their last minutes of peace. She herself was covered in armour and had hid her face and long fair hair beneath a metal helmet, but she was still afraid someone might recognise her and eyed suspiciously any soldier that shot her even the shortest glance.<p>

Éowyn had to put the armour on herself, since she couldn't find Dáireann anywhere that morning, although she had looked around almost all of their campsite. She thought it rather strange, for to her Dáireann didn't seem like a person who wouldn't keep the word she gave to her princess.

Just as she was thinking about the girl and still suspiciously eyeing the crowd that had been forming around her, she could swear she saw a familiar figure among the men.

_Dáireann?_

No, it couldn't be, she thought. She was not the same kind of a person as her; and judging by the conversations they had had, Dáireann would have been the last one to enter the battlefield on her own free will.

_My mind must have played tricks on me_, she thought.

Without giving it any further attention, Éowyn sighed once more and concentrated her mind on the upcoming battle, which was to decide the fate of all of them.

* * *

><p>Dirty and exhausted from battle, Gandalf stood motionless in one of the many marble halls and chambers of the palace in Minas Tirith. He was looking down at the dead body of a young woman that was placed on a pedestal carved from the very same white marble most of the great building consisted of.<p>

He wondered what her body was doing on the Pelennor Fields after the effort he put into keeping her as far away from Gondor as possible. It caught him by a great surprise when after the battle, he saw Legolas running in his direction, clutching her stiff cold body in his arms. The poor Elf seemed devastated, unsure whether the girl in his arms was under the charm of Gandalf's pendant or whether she too, just like many others, had fallen victim to Sauron's merciless warriors.

Seeing as there were no wounds to be found on her body, save perhaps for a few bruises and scratches, he knew she could be brought to life again. Finishing his contemplating of the curious events, he stretched a hand over her face and, mumbling a few muffled phrases that only he knew the meaning of, slowly let the power of the pendant dissolve into nothingness.

The girl woke up with a deep gasp, as if she had been drowning underwater. For a few seconds she was struggling for air until her body got used to the original state it was in until a day ago. After she seemed to calm down and stop panicking, she looked around with a confused expression on her face and then finally met Gandalf's comforting gaze.

"What… what is this place?" she asked, still short of breath.

"You are in Minas Tirith, Dáireann."

"Minas Tirith?" she asked, shocked. "But… I was at Dunharrow…"

"Your body was found on the battlefield." he said cautiously, trying not to cause her any more confusion and panic.

"The battlefield? Oh my…" she slowly lifted herself and put her legs on the stone floor. "I thought it was just a dream… I remember I… I wasn't feeling very well and then there were these flashes of fire, flashes of scenes from a battle… but I thought it was all just a nightmare!" she exclaimed with a raised voice.

Gandalf was thinking for a moment. Could Sauron have, for a while, overpowered his charmed pendant?

"I must have underestimated the Dark Lord's powers." he said, still deep in thought.

"Please just tell me what is going on!" she said pleadingly.

With a sigh, Gandalf tried to explain as best as he could all about the charmed pendant that she had received from Legolas. She was quiet as he was talking, and she remained quiet even after he had finished his story. However, her expression revealed a great deal of shock, confusion and astonishment.

_Well, it doesn't happen every day that you are woken up from the dead_, he thought.

"I will have someone take you to your chamber, Dáireann. You should take a rest today." he said with a comforting smile and then left the room to call for some servants of the palace.

* * *

><p>Standing at a grand marble window overlooking the busy streets of Minas Tirith and leaning on the windowsill to get a better view of the buzz beneath her, Dáireann was contemplating the events that had happened that day. She didn't expect to hear what Gandalf had told her. It felt strange to know that, whatever small amount of time it might have been, she was literally <em>dead<em>. The only memory she had of the unusual state was sheer blackness; nothing seen or heard, tasted or felt.

She didn't blame Legolas for giving her the pendant. After absorbing the information for a while, the rational part of her mind started to win the upper hand and she came to understand his reasons. However, she had to admit that her heart dropped a little as she realized that the present wasn't a manifestation of his feelings for her at the brink of a war that might have separated them forever.

As she was watching the setting sun, she heard a gentle knock on the door.

"Come in." she answered, already anticipating the silent visitor.

Dáireann barely even heard Legolas cross the room, the quiet almost inaudible sound of his steps making him seem as light as a feather. She only knew that he had approached her from the warmth of his body that was radiating from close behind her. She didn't turn around to greet him; she just kept watching the orange sky and waited for his touch that she, in spite of the doubts that kept forcing their way into her heart, had desired so much. His warm breath tingled slightly on the nape of her neck as he pulled away the loose strands of hair and gently touched it with his lips.

Feeling his touch, Dáireann closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She tried to drive out all the thoughts and worries and simply enjoy the moment. For a brief instant, when she managed to at least for a while forget all the circumstances surrounding them, everything seemed perfect. The man sending gentle kisses down the nape of her neck wasn't Legolas the Prince, nor Legolas the Immortal, nor Legolas the Elf; it was simply Legolas, just the way he was and the way she had come to love him.

His strong arms embraced her slim figure and he whispered to her ear:

"It seems almost unbelievable that I am holding you like this." he breathed in deeply. "The moment I saw your body on the ground… it was the worst moment of my life."

Dáireann's heart quickened its pace. She didn't answer; she simply wanted to listen to his voice.

"_Amin mela lle_." he whispered to her ear and placed a gentle kiss on its tip that was so very unlike his own.

"I don't understand." she replied silently, feeling her breath quicken a little.

"You do, Dáireann."

And she did. She knew without any doubts from the moment he had held her so close to him at Danharrow; she knew why she didn't want to let him go that day, and she also knew why he didn't want to let go of her. That very brief moment of contact between two beings so different in every way and yet so close and connected for a few seconds of the mercilessly flowing time. Dáireann came to experience that very same feeling at that moment, with Legolas' lips gently brushing against her skin.

_I love you too_.

She wanted to say it, but the words simply couldn't make their way out of her mouth. However, before she had time to ponder over her inability to share with him the same words of affection that came from him and were still resonating in her head, she felt his hand gently push her side towards him. Dáireann didn't resist and slowly turned around to face Legolas. For a while they lingered in the moment, looking into each other's eyes and reading in their depths what could not be said out loud.

After what to her seemed like eternity, Legolas slowly drew closer to her face and stopped only inches from her lips, both of them enjoying the excitement of the close contact. His warm breath tingled on her face. As their lips finally touched, Dáireann found herself swept away from reality, swept away to a place where nothing but Legolas' affectionate touch and the warmth if his comforting body mattered.

With her mind miles away from the real world, she barely even noticed that she was lying on a soft canapé that was placed just under the window, Legolas leaning over her and gradually deepening the passionate kisses. It wasn't until he finally broke the contact and moved lower to relish the taste of her neck that Dáireann's thoughts began to clear up once again and in spite of the passionate moment, or maybe even because of it, the tiny voice of reason inside her head started to resonate through the sounds of love and passion that were occupying her mind up until then.

She couldn't deny that being in Legolas' arms felt natural, comforting and even right. Maybe too right, she thought. For however hard she tried to think otherwise, she knew it was the exact opposite. They had the few happy moments that they could be enjoying right then and there, but the image of their future kept bugging her, scaring her even. What scared her most was the fact that there was no future. She knew it, and she was sure he knew it too. They may survive the war, but what would be next? He would have an eternity awaiting him amongst his people and she…

She didn't know. Her whole mind was swept up in a turmoil of mixed feelings and fears that out of all the moments chose exactly that one to come to the surface and make her life more complicated.

As Legolas leaned over her face again and made for her lips, she stopped him by putting her palm between their faces; half unconsciously, half knowing why. Legolas seemed to snap back to reality and after realizing what had happened, he swiftly sat up on the canapé and lifted her as well.

"I am so sorry, Dáireann. I should not have pushed you that far." he said with an apologetic look on his face.

"No, it… it's fine."

Overcoming her fear, she lifted her gaze and looked him in the eyes.

"Tell me, Legolas… what will become of us?"

She saw surprise show on his fair features.

"What will become of us?" he repeated the question. "What do you mean?"

"Don't you… don't you see it too? That these feelings are growing in vain?"

"Growing in vain?" he asked in disbelief, with a deep frown on his face. "Dáireann, what is the meaning of this conversation?"

"I don't know if I can do this." she was getting desperate.

She felt her eyes filling up with warm tears, but she tried to surpress them for as long as she could.

"We don't have a future, and you know it." she said pleadingly. "An immortal Elven prince and a Rohirric chambermaid? The world I live in doesn't work that way!"

She was mentally cursing herself for ruining the wonderful moment, but she couldn't help it. It was impossible now to take back what she had already said; even though it probably hurt her even more than him. She _did_ love him, Eru himself surely knew; but at that moment it seemed to her more rational not to take it to the next level, which would undoubtedly make it even more difficult to part when the time came. Maybe she was being too rational, too selfish.

Legolas stood up and paced up and down the room, the look of disbelief still lingering on his face.

"So what you are trying to tell me… is that you feel nothing for me at all? That all this time I have been _imagining_ that you have been developing the same feelings I have?" he asked, sounding almost angry.

"No! No, I…" she hesitated for a while. "Just try to understand…"

"Understand what?" he interrupted her. He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but then simply looked at her with a look of something that to her resembled contempt; and Dáireann could feel a part of her heart break and crumble into little pieces.

"You know what, Dáireann? Maybe it is better this way after all. Better to be alone and heartbroken than to be lied to by someone like you." he said angrily and with one last look, before Dáireann could protest, turned around and swiftly paced out of her chamber.

* * *

><p><strong>Haha, I hope you won't hate me for the last part! Let me know what you thought about it.<strong>


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